The Soldier of Zeon
by The Reborn Akatsuki
Summary: This is the tale of one man during the opening volleys of the One Year War. The story of a soldier of Zeon, serving his nation as a instrument of war. His beliefs, thoughts and actions are laid bare in this war between the Federation and Principality. There is no such thing as a innocent soldier and Dieter Kreis is no exception. Now complete.
1. Colony 13

**AN: Well here is something that I suppose came out of left field, I am despite my long time fandom of the Gundam franchise, specifically the UC or Universal Century timeline a complete novice with it comes to writing stories set it its universe. This is actually the first gundam narrative of mine that has ever gotten past the rough draft stage and while I do have several ongoing stories, this one in particular demanded I focus on it for a time given that is relatively short and placed into a stage of the One Year War that regrettably doesn't actually have all that much spot light focused on it.**

 **That is where Dieter comes into the picture, I designed this character as a look into the mentality, the beliefs, politics and era of the people of Side Three. He is not by any definition a shining example of humanity nor is he overly compelling in his views, he's designed to be flawed, human, and even outright cruel in some of his views just like all people. I wanted the perspective of a individual soldier during the conflict between the Principality and Federation to basically add a depth that sadly was lacking from the original MSG and much of its supporting material, overall Dieter is a devoted soldier, a man who swore a oath to serve and follows through with that oath at the expense of everything else.**

 **Anyway I am rambling I do hope you enjoy the first chapter of this little narrative I have thrown together.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Mobile Suit Gundam or any of its respective characters, locations, and items, that said the original characters included in this story are of my own creation and therefore my respective intellectual property.**

* * *

 **January 3rd 0079**

 **0400 Hours**

 **Task Force 13, Mobile Suit detachment stationed aboard Musai Light Cruiser: Zeal**

 **"All hands, this is Captain Rainor speaking. We have a green light, I repeat, we have a green light. Lord Gihren has ordered the attack launched, war will be declared officially in fifteen minutes, be in position by then."**

The locker room aboard the Musai was all but vacant. Not only was the vessel operating on but a skeleton crew to minimize the chance to intelligence leaks, the sheer personal trusted with the Zeal's misson had been numbered in the dozens. Just the needed crew, an officer that should be trusted to not ask questions and fulfill his duties, and a few technicians for the Mobile Suits and no one else was required. Thus one of the most commonly packed rooms aboard the vessel was eerily silent, nothing but a stark reminder that this was real.

He gave a final glance to the interior of his assigned locker. Despite only being aboard for little over two standard days he had tried to make the unit resemble the one he had held at the Zeonic Military Academy. Some small touch of home aboard this warship heading for their role to play in history. Fingers gripping the thin metal of the door before shutting it he let out a held breath, he was nervous. Hazel brown eyes found his name inscribed upon the plate.

 **Dieter Kreis**

This was his duty, nothing more, nothing less.

The message of the captain repeated once more aloud over the intercom before the room was cast into silence. Well, it was time to get down to the hangar bay—it wouldn't do to keep the technicians waiting. With that short intercom announcement the solar system that had celebrated the beginning of yet a new year in the Universal Century merely days ago would now be at war for the first time in numerous decades.

The day he knew was coming for the last decade of his life finally reared itself, the day he had been training his body and mind to prepare for had finally dawned. The outbreak of war came not as a shock but a mere expectation. For years the Earth Federation had been thumbing its nose at Zeon, ever since his childhood in the late 0050s their presence had only become increasingly toxic within the colony. After the death of the Zeon Dum Deikun in 0068, relations between his home colony of Side Three and the Federation had only become increasingly strained. When Side Three had formally declared its independence in the aftermath of the death of Deikun and reestablished the Republic of Munzo into the Principality of Zeon the war became inevitable. He knew that for Zeon to truly be free, for its chains to the earth to forever be severed...this war was needed.

He dug into the olive drab twinged material of his flight suit as he pulled free a packet of cigarettes. While there was no prohibition against smoking it was something that was mildly discouraged within the military due to health concerns, but he was young, strong and able. Besides...he'd hate to see the man who could actually be calm today. Today Side Three and the Federation's history—no, perhaps even the history of humanity itself would be decided. Flipping the pack open and ripping away the foil protection for the little death sticks before gripping one and placing it between teeth he reached for the ancient flint lighter he always kept on his person.

Snapping the flint against the small cog wheel and producing a spark the lighter burned for a moment upon the tip of the cigarette only to be extinguished a few seconds later with another snap. Lord Gihren would declare war in literally minutes from now, while the colonies were sleeping and preparing for the new day, they would move into position to unleash the first wave of their invasion against the Earth Federation. He would be needed, the entirety of the military of Zeon would be needed, all those thousands back in the homeland being trained to fight at his side, all those who had graduated alongside him in the academy...all of them would do their duty to their leaders and nation.

That was why he would fight, to secure freedom for Side Three, to cast the Federation into the waste bin of history where it belonged, he would fight and kill. He recalled Deikun's frantic speeches and rants all across Munzo as he bellowed in the National Diet, would Zeon have had the resolve to do what his chosen successor Degwin now did? Or rather what his chosen successor's eldest son now did? Burning tobacco and the slight rush of nicotine filled his lungs for a moment before he exhaled in a cloud of ash twinged smoke. He was hardly even a man when the most powerful politician and philosopher in Side Three simply died, but even then he doubted it. No it was not Deikun but the Zabis he owed his loyalty to, the men and...woman of that family he supposed had worked tirelessly in their efforts to rebuild the crumbling but independent Republic of Munzo into the strong, and ordered Principality that stood today.

He was proud of his country, he loved his nation, and that was why he knew war would come. If they did not land the first blow, how long would it be before the Federation did? For the last decade the Principality and Federation had been caught in something of nationalized arms race. The Federation military now dwarfed anything in its prior history, if they failed to attack, failed to press their advantage then the Federation would simply continue to build up its crushing military might in its own prelude to war.

Their Mobile Suits would be their ace in the hole, the deciding factor, the reason why the opening volley of this war would be its last.

The halls of the cruiser were eerily silent despite their activity. They all knew what was about to happen, and what they were about to do. Did the crew or any of his other fellow pilots have any doubts, any private traitorous thoughts? Perhaps, but he knew no one would say a word. All the personnel he passed offered brisk salutes and waited for him to return the military gesture before returning to their duties with a grim dedication. The Federation would call Zeon monsters for this, they would poison the purity of the Spacenoid race's image with the rotting and decomposing bodies they would lay at the Feddies' feet today.

Entering into the hangar he was greeted by his fellow pilots. The mechanics and technicians were preforming minor last minute checks and alterations to the Zaku held within the bay. Task force 13 would be launching within five minutes, within another ten they'd be in position to strike at the Federally controlled Colonies of Side Two. Cigarette still oozing forth smoke he flicked the half smoked stick to the floor before grinding his boot beneath it, the sputtering ember was smothered effectively before he simply slid his boot off it. Glancing at the chrono in his left wrist gauntlet he knew that they were approaching their launch window, if they were to be in position they would have to hurry.

It was time to get to work.

"Lieutenant. Its time," one of the technicians said as he moved away from the now open cockpit canopy of the MS-05A. Of the assembled mobile suits only his Zaku was now one of the antiquated Generation one Zaku and that was for a specific reasoning: he had been given an assignment directly from the ship's captain who had in turn gotten it directly from the ministry of war itself under Lord Gihren.

"Right, let's go kick off a war," he replied humorlessly. His eyes drifted to the standard and not so standard armament of his mobile suit. In place of a standard drummed 120mm or 105mm machine gun, his mobile suit bore a weapon of a far more sinister intent. A twin-racked grenade launcher, however it was not any sort of standard missile type grenade, oh no the warhead contained something special within. The metallic casing of the 'explosive' bore numerous warning and other eye-catching sigils that would warn the crew of these weapons contents. He knew what this was. He knew what his mission was, but that didn't make it any easier to stand at the prospect of actually doing it.

In just minutes, he would be able to decide the fates of millions of lives, was that how the Zabis always felt? If so he never would envy Gihren or Dewgin. Even now he felt cold sweat unconsciously beginning to form on the back of his neck. He could stand down, refuse the mission, one of the other assigned pilots could do this task...but ultimately it would be done, even if he refused to do it himself, it would occur this day. Why would he place that burden upon any one of these men? He swore an oath to defend Side Three, to defend the homeland against all aggression and if by doing this...he could secure its freedom, its place in the stars…

So be it.

"God can forgive me in hell," he murmured mirthlessly, as he kicked off the deck on a straight path for his assigned Zaku and his destiny. Just how many pilots like him were facing prospects of launching weapons designed to efficiently and effectively cleanse entire populations of the Federally aligned colonies?

* * *

 **January 3rd 0079**

 **0411 Hours**

"Lt. Kreis awaiting clearance to launch," he grumbled out through the tight confines of his sealed and pressurized helmet, his fingers rapping absently on the control studs of his left joystick.

"Lieutenant, you are given clearance to launch. Glory to the Principality of Zeon." And with that he was unleashed. No longer was he going to be merely awaiting the chance to fight, no longer would he need to watch the clock tick down for the outbreak of war or when the mission would kick off. Now his life, his mission were beholden to no one but him and his skill...it was the way things should be.

"Glory to the Principality of Zeon!" he exclaimed over the comms as he rocketed out of the Musai's catapult system quickly joined merely a few breaths later by his squadmates. He didn't know these men very well but they were assigned to his team for this mission, so he would tolerate it. As long as they watched his back while he delivered the G3 weapon platform into position for the colony gassing then his mission would succeed. If it succeeded then the first day of this war may very well be a harbinger of the end of it.

Outside of the Musai one could truly see the gathering of forces that was taking place across the Sides as Zeon prepared to launch its first decisive strike of the war. Fourteen Cruisers including the Zeal made up their battle group, and according to the briefing reports of yesterday it would be only one of almost a hundred. The entire Zeonic navy it seemed was being deployed to support this first critical and brutal strike upon the unsuspecting Earth Federation, it was a good thing measures like this should be as lethal as possible to make any follow-up combat all the more easy.

"Lieutenant: Our orders are to hold position outside of the scanner range of the target until after the declaration of war has been sent," his squadmate to the left in the modern Zaku II spoke as their thrusters propelled them from the empty sea of space that was currently being occupied by task force 13. Throughout the borders of space no doubt there were numerous other battle groups sortieing just now, soldiers who would face the Federation in open war today rather than slinking into the underside of a 'civilian' colony and pacifying it, but those men could kill their targets without hesitation or remorse. He would be the one to bear the burden of what this act would mean in history.

After all did any historian ever question the legitimacy of a soldier killing another soldier? No but today, today this would ensure that Side Three would forever remain the true bastion of Spacenoid pride that it was. It would ensure that the Principality truly could and would forever be free of the oppression of the Earth Federation and its blinding incompetence and lust for profit. Besides what did those who stood outside of Side Three know of their plight? Only a single other Side had tried to secede from the Federation and even then they had required their assistance to accomplish it!

Why would or should he even care about these traitors, those who stood in the shadow of the Federation acting the part of the content slave? Zeon would never submit to the tyranny of the Federation and that was why this war was needed. Reaching their designated place for the launch of their mission was easy enough within the time limit even with only scarce minutes to do so before the declaration of war came down. Then it came to simply waiting. He felt the unconscious urge to dig once more into his flight suit for another cigarette but stifled the urge; he didn't like smoking inside his Zaku. Not to mention doing so would require him to have to unfasten his helmet, and undo the clasps for his gloves so he could actually hold the thing properly and by then it would be time to move.

No he didn't crave nicotine anyway that was just the nerves, he had done dozens of training missions and sorties since the academy but none of them were like this. This was an honest to God war beginning, soon uncountable lives could be lost, some of them even at his own hand.

...Perhaps even he would die.

He'd endure it though, even as he watched that clock clicking down towards the assigned destination, this would be done by the book. No official action before the declaration of war was undertook, no one would claim that Zeon had followed the conventions of war as they stood to the letter but...at the very least the Federation would know that Side Three was finally making its move, their war for independence would begin in under three minutes.

Breaking in on their silenced channel however was an update log from the Captain. "Attention boys, this is Rainor and we have a problem: roughly twenty seconds ago a Federation Salamis Class Cruiser entered our scope and is attempting to hail the Zeal and our other vessels. If it hasn't reported this already then they will soon. I don't need to remind you that for another two-and-a-half minutes the Federation and Principality are supposed to be theoretically at peace." The transmission cut out; he knew what the Captain wanted them to do.

"You heard the man, we need to push up the time table, push everything you got into primary thrusters. You're both in Zaku II's so you should be able to dance around me in this outdated hunk of garbage." He grumbled out over the direct suit to suit communication. Prepping his mobile suit and diverting energy from the power plant so he could again activate his thrusters, he eyed the cylinder of the colony floating in the immense vacuum and emptiness of space before him.

Of course everything went to hell just minutes before they were supposed to move into position to neutralize their assigned colony for the battle plan. It seemed that the Federation pickets at Side Two had actually managed to uncover the Zeon battle group that made up task force 13. They would need to move quickly then while conventional communications would be utterly jammed due to the dispersion of the Minovsky particles...they could still tight beam data back to the colony, but this was supposed to a surprise attack, they were supposed to catch the Federation completely unaware and now some feddie in a salamis thought he could ruin months of preparation, weeks of intense mock ups and drills went into perfecting this run, all for one damn fed ship to fuck the entire thing up.

Well as the age old idiom said: No plan survives contact with the enemy. They'd just have to make this work and fulfill their mission regardless of the premature detection.

Checking the status readouts on his grenade launcher he smiled a grim thin line. Soon the Federation fleet at Side Two wouldn't be talking to anyone.

* * *

 **January 3rd 0079**

 **0415 Hours**

 **Outer Border of Side 2, Colony 13**

The armored fist of the mobile suit ripped into the interior of the colony, escaping onrushing gas and flames licking across his monitor. As the upper body of his suit pulled apart paneling and steel lattices that made up the 'ground' of the sealed O'Neill cylinder broke away and the fierce vacuum behind him only increased. Within the colony it was chaos: there may have been a few minutes of scattered reports of Principality ships in their vicinity but clearly no order of evacuation or emergency had been given. The numerous regularly clothed corpses that floated amidst the broken debris of his entryway attested to that.

Loose grit and sod from the flower beds and grass caught between the artificial gravity of the rotating cylinder the vacuum of space pinged and pitted against the Zaku as it pulled its self into the widening hole that separate the colony from the void. From within his suit he bore witness to the momentary surprise of his entrance, those who were awake earlier in the colony before its artifical sun rose. For what ever purpose they had been in his planned entryway, of course given that he had selected this portion of the colony due to the fact it possessed no structures or buildings on it or nearby likely contributed to its population at present.

Of course it would be a recreation area.

The mobile suit groaned as it forced its way upward through the twisted and broken metal. Forcing the generation one Zaku further into the gaping hole, and finally being able to pull the Mobile Suit into the cylinder of the colony let Dieter catch his breath even as he checked the various status readouts that the on board kept informing him of. The suit was undamaged and pressure had kept, he still had over two hours of breathable oxygen within his normal suit, his munitions had made it safely aboard the colony. Everything was coming up grand so far.

"Right on time," he murmured more to himself than his comrades who were busy making sure to keep his back free of Feddies who wanted to try their luck at being heroes. He doubted it would be needed though, so far despite their infilitration potentially being compromised by early detection there had been no military reaction from the Federation. No swarms of Saberfish fighter craft harassed them with missiles and machine guns, no Federation warships tried to engage them, ultimately it seemed that the Battle Group had drawn the Federation's attention in the vacuum. Which was good, fourteen Musai could hold their own against the paltry forces assigned for colony defense by the Federation long enough for their own mission to be completed so they could return to render aid.

Bringing up the grenade launcher and aiming it squarely at the counter rotating cylinder of the 'upper' portion of the colony he hesitated. Already he had killed close to a dozen people merely by breaching into what appeared to be some sort of park area within the colony, could he truly fire this weapon designed solely to kill these men and women? Their elderly and children, this colony would be wiped clean with but a simple pull on his triggering stud and he would have the deaths of tens of millions attached to his name. He'd be a monster to the Federation, perhaps even to Zeon, but he knew that coming into this operation, he knew his name would be sullied, he knew he'd be named as one of the butchers assigned to this task.

He was given this mission because he'd do it anyway. Unlike some of the other members of this soon-to-be notorious club of 'colony killers', he had been informed beforehand by Captain Rainor just what these projectiles contained with them. G3 was Zeon's newest superweapon, a blister agent of such potency that testing it actually caused muscle and tissue to sluice off of the effected parties. This colony would die in the space of minutes, Feddie and civilian alike would die, the gas didn't discriminate. But what were these people? Why would they content themselves to live side by side with the Federation? If anything if they were true spacenoids they'd be helping Zeon achieve its Independence, its true freedom from the Federation but no...they'd play the part of contented slaves and this is where that method of thinking led them.

It had come to it though, here it was the choice that he knew he'd face this day. Today he had been called upon to serve his nation, to serve his country as it fought for its freedom by weakening its enemies, by cleansing its supporters and forces alike from the stars. Would he do it? Could he do it? Would he serve the Zabi's in this capacity? Those who had fought relentlessly to prepare their country to be free, truly independent of the Earth. To achieve that you needed more than discipline, you needed more than strength.

You needed balance, Contolism, the Newtype philosophy of Side Three while not the state religion it more or less was in practice the most touted dogma of their homeland. Contolism spoke of acting in balance in one with the universe, by doing this he'd reduce the stain of the Federation's presence in space yes but beyond that he'd be cleansing away the filth that had festered in these colonies since the days of the founding of the Federation. Only those of Side Three knew the truth, knew that in order for humanity to truly once and for all to rise above its base and primal nature they needed the strong and direct hand of the superior race of Zeon to guide them.

He'd drown his consciousness later, he'd drink his liver black but now? Now he needed to do his duty.

He'd pull the trigger, he somewhere deep down within himself always knew he'd pull that trigger.

His duty clear in mind, he let out a held breath into the sealed helmet before placing his hand upon the joystick, his finger resting just precious centimeters away from the firing stud that would unleash the weapon of mass destruction upon the unsuspecting colony. It was just a job, his duty, there was no enjoyment in this prospect...He wasn't some unfeeling monster, but his people needed to win this war, and to win it at any cost. They couldn't match the Federation in numbers, in resources, they had the entire planet of Earth to draw upon to supply their military arm, victory in conventional war was a impossibility for Zeon even with their advanced technology and mobile suits.

"Firing one," he repeated for the onboard mission recorder if for nothing else than to add confirmation to the data that the technicians could gather from the onboard computer. Not to mention he needed to break the silence after that period of what seemed to be almost five minutes but according to his chrono hadn't even been thirty seconds.

Squeezing down upon the firing stud, he felt the propellant in the warhead burning as it rocketed off its launcher, the grenade sailed upwards dozens of miles into the colony before exploding in a flash of light. After that though, what had once been light faded into twinged green, the gas from the shell oozing downward across the colony covering dozens of square miles in seconds, more as an afterthought than anything else Dieter pressed down upon the stud again and with a light tap the second warhead broke free of its launcher as it fired into the arc on a similar arc as its sibling had just moments before. "Firing two." Already the ground was beginning to saturate and form clouds of the chemical weapon—soon everything living in this colony would be dead. Within his mobile suit he witnessed all the death, the chaos that was wrought by his own hand, he watched children break into gore and meat in their parents arms. He watched lovers embracing as they choked and vomited up their own vital fluids, he watched plants wither and cars crash into building as a city, a nation, died before him.

Within his sealed and pressurized suit, protected as he was by the thick armored plating of his Zaku he could witness the event in its epicenter without fear. The infamous mono eye camera focused on the scene before it, through the magnification he could make out individuals break down into little more then piles of bloody meat, it was quick and humane there would be no suffering-there wasn't time enough for it. The thick green fumes of the chemical weapon became thicker and thicker as they picked up on air currents and were transported across the multiple levels of the entire colony, unless if people were in pressurized space or normal suits they wouldn't survive this attack. And given that there had been scarce little warning before his own arrival...he doubted anyone had donned the very measures that would save their life.

Bodies broke down and cooked in the compound, festering and rancid as if they were decaying in the space of seconds rather than weeks and months as was natural. G3 was clearly just as powerful as he had been led to believe, this weapon was beyond anything he could comprehend, while nuclear warheads may be overly more powerful but they left nothing behind but radiation and destruction with G3? All you needed to do was watch as the world died around you, no dramatic mushroom clouds as atoms split, no cracking explosion that rent apart cities and turned people into ash.

With G3...people, everything, simply died.

In the space of a minute-and-a-half Colony 13 of Side Two was a graveyard.

Glancing at his chrono he confirmed the readout before triggering a burst transmission back to the Zeal.

"Mission accomplished." There was nothing more to be said than that, he had done what he had been ordered to do, he had done what he had been directed to do and he knew that by doing so he'd be called a monster by the Federation, a war criminal, a cold blooded killer of millions. He didn't care, he had sworn an oath to do what was ordered of him, his personal honor, his integrity, it meant nothing compared to maintaining that bond. His honor was loyalty first and foremost.

 **0417, 0417**...in under two minutes he had neutralized Colony Thirteen, in under two minutes he had killed millions, in under two minutes he had gone from never having taken a life outside of a simulator to likely one of the most blood-soaked individuals in human history. Was this what those who dropped the atom bomb for the first time back in the middle ages back on Earth felt like? How did they justify the death to themselves?

"Returning to base," he issued, following up on his initial transmission. He still had a war to fight, just because this one battle was over didn't mean that the war was. He could only hope that the Federation would see sense and sue for peace before every colony they ruled became a mass grave.

* * *

 **AN: Well there we have the first chapter in what is planned to be a fairly short journey through the first weeks of the One Year War through the eyes of Dieter. I do hope you enjoyed it, and if you did please leave a review or maybe follow or favorite the story. I know that sadly our little Gundam fanfiction archive for UC is dreadfully small but I am happy I could contribute at least one entry into it.**

 **I hope to see you all for chapter two in the next entry into 'The Soldier of Zeon.'**

 **-Reborn Akatsuki**


	2. Side Two

**AN: Well here is chapter two in the Soldier of Zeon, the adventures and tribulations of Dieter** **Kreis** **are just beginning and with every chapter we witness yet more of the life of a soldier at war. So far both the prior and this very chapter merely cover the very first day of hostilities, do not worry as I said the entirity of the events of January in so far as how Dieter was involved be present so don't worry eventually January Third will be replaced with the fourth, and fifth, etc you get my meaning. I don't plan for this story to be overly long, nor for this chapters to be immensely long in and of themselves but that said I do hope that you can appreciate all the subtle detail and word building that is being put into place.**

 **With all that said, I will like to say thank you to the person who thought this story worthy of both a favorite and a follow it is nice to see that at the very least this narrative premise is intriguing to some people. Anyway enough gabbing let's wrap this up, surely all of you are more interesting in what is written down below then my own personal gabbing no?**

 **Disclaimer:** **I do not own Mobile Suit Gundam or any of its respective characters, locations, and items, that said the original characters included in this story are of my own creation and therefore my respective intellectual property.**

* * *

 **0079 January Third**

 **Musai Light Cruiser: Zeal, Stationed sixteen hundred kilometers off of Side Two**

 **0704 hours**

The ship interior stank of sweat, grease and ozone. Servicemen aboard the Zeal scurried from one assigned duty to the next, all were awaiting the next Federation counterattack, thus far their battle group had maintained position since the last three encounters between the Earth Federation. They were holding lines because it maximized their effective firing coverage and launch vectors for their mobile suits, they could fire in tandem at the same target without coordinating efforts and launch their mobile suits into the same firing zones thus supplementing their firepower even further. But beyond that it was just easier to collect their suits this way, that had been Rainor's primary concern when he had ordered the Zeal into position to offer the escaping team from the colony 13 run covering fire when the Federal fleet had been right on their tails.

Normally such a battle like that would have been mere child's play, their suits could easily outmaneuver and destroy attacking warships but Dieter's own Zaku had only been equipped with the G-3 dispenser as far as a ranged weapon went and charging into melee range would require the other members of his team to engage as well thus potentially risking all of their valuable mobile suits right after a successful mission. Thus the Zeal had provided frantic covering fire thus drawing the enemy ships away from attacking the Zeon mobile suits and thus having them engage in a slug fest between naval might that had left the Salamis that had been pursing them sunk with all hands aboard lost. During that brutal firefight Dieter along with his team had returned aboard the Zeal and that was when he noticed the hectic pacing that had been drilled into their navy during their numerous years in preparation for this day.

The ship was in a state of frantic motion, reloading the various expended munitions that the mobile suits had gone through thus far during the open salvos of this war kept the technicians constantly busy, despite only Task Force Thirteen being stationed aboard the Zeal and thus only having three mobile suits to refit was not as daunting a task as some of the other battle zones throughout the fronts that Zeon had opened across the Sides it never the less was a task that kept them occupied. Furthermore the prior three hours had seen numerous battles between the Federation picket forces stationed at Side Two and their own battle group. During those frantic and bloody battles two of their own Musai had been sunk by Federation warships but the cost for the Federation had been dear despite Task Force Thirteen only consisting of Dieter's own team along with nine others, they had made the Federation pay a steep price for their assault against the battle group. Yes with only thirty Zaku they had collectively sunk six Salamis class cruisers, and even two of their Magellan battleships thus the Federation's losses far outstripped their own but it came at the price of two of their warships and a Zaku.

While the lost pilot had not been one of Dieter's team and thus he knew little of the event in question it none the less revealed that despite the advantages offered by their mobile suits, despite the training and preparation that had gone into this day...bad luck could still result in death for their side. Dieter had himself assisted in the sinking of one of the Magellan warships and even had three Saberfish fighter craft accredited to him. Despite this only being the first day of the war he was nearly at 'ace' status. While he wasn't one to ponder or think overly about the overall state of the war he knew that this campaign would likely herald the end of the hostilities and while he cared not for becoming a 'ace' he knew that for every kill he achieved, for every warship he sunk...it increased the likelihood of the Federation abandoning Side Two. Eventually their numbers would become so depleted, so vacant that they would be incapable of further confrontation here and would have to flee to another Federation controlled territory.

His eyes drifted upwards to the technicians who were busy attaching the autoloader mechanism to his now emptied magazines for his Zaku's 105mm machine gun. He heard the rapid clinking and chipping as numerous shells filled the emptied chambers, he had only come aboard again to have his mobile suit rearmed for the third time. While the Federation attacks had come with increasing scarce resistance he knew that sooner or later they would gather their strength for one final assault on their position in the vain and ultimately futile effort to displace them from Side Two, if they had reinforcements incoming, had they not opened numerous other fronts all across the Sides that the Federation had to respond to simultaneously no doubt their fourteen warships would rapidly be swamped in a unending tide of enemies they couldn't combat...but Gihren Zabi had planned this war well.

The alarm klaxons once again rang out signalling that the Federation was again launching a assault on their battle group, he knew not what they had left to fight with, indeed their briefing on the make up of their forces had been made up of guesswork and estimates but none the less he knew that they couldn't keep fighting like this. With every ship they lost, with every fighter squadron they lost their position in this sector grew increasingly more tenuous. And with their own success in this theater it was increasingly more likely that they would be the ones to receive relief forces, not the Federation that would be bogged down trying to stave off attacks from Side One to Four. Still until those reinforcements arrived or the Federation broke and ran they'd have to continue to fight them off and inflict as much damage as possible to them.

Deep within the interior of the ship, he knew not what was assaulting the ship but as the repairs and refitting to his mobile suit weren't completed yet he couldn't assist in its defense, all three of the ship's mobile suits were in the hangar being rearmed and equipped. Munitions were expended rapidly in the fierce battles, and while the Zeal carried surpluses of their weaponry, he couldn't help but think that if this battle dragged on much longer they would run dry and have to pull back to Side Three controlled space to be resupplied. That however wouldn't be the case as fate decided on otherwise just seconds after that thought had dawned.

"All hands brace for evasive maneuvers." The captain's brief terse announcement was soon joined frantic motion as the ship began listing heavily to port causing him to have to reach out and grip one of the bolted down work benches merely for the momentum not to send him flying through the hangar bay. However that was nothing compared to what came after, despite the frantic evasion the ship shook violently from repeated impacts mere seconds later. The sounds of metal shearing away and explosions rocked the ship. Lights flickered and burst throughout the hangar as power surged and was diverted. The alarm klaxons continued blaring and he wouldn't be surprised if they had several hull breaches now, given they weren't in multiple pieces he doubted it was a mega particle beam shot but likely a swarm of missiles had broken through their anti ship weaponry and struck the vessel.

"Hull breach detected on fore section, deck two...sealing emergency bulkheads, primary cannon number 6, 4 and 1...inoperable. Mobile suit teams prepare to launch...Sieg Zeon." The words of the captain's message carried a weight of finality, he knew then and there that the Zeal was on it's last legs, during the battles prior to this it had avoided major damage but having a entire section of ship now open to the vacuum denied it to the crew and while the fore contained no vital systems or equipment, it was the location of their primary armament, the gunnery crews would likely keep firing until they ran out of energy or munitions but...there was a limit to the fight they could bring to the enemy with half of their primary guns now denied them, the Zeal could break formation but that would put the already weakened battle group into even more dire straits.

So they would hold position, they would keep fighting, and they would die.

"Lieutenant, Your Zaku is ready, the rearmament is complete...but we weren't able to apply a full restock of Helium-3 so your reactor may not have its normal operating time." One of the technicians he had never even learned the name of informed him briskly, all soldiers knew this day could come but it was to happen to these men on the very first day of the war? In their first battle? He knew he couldn't stave off anyone's death except his own through skill and luck, Rainor knew that this battle would be a gamble, coming into the fight with only guesswork Intel and the limited resources as he had, but the man had been under orders from Gihren and those carried more weight then anyone else's in Zeon.

"Time to get back to it then." He stated rather blandly, where was the vigor he had felt just hours before at the prospect of facing real enemies rather then just endless simulations? Where was the pride he had felt at the thought of facing down numerous Federation warships to liberate his homeland? He'd already killed millions and then added to that body count, he felt nothing at the prospect of taking further life-was this what a soldier felt at the prospect of battle? Of killing the enemy? Nothing? Shaking those thoughts from his head he spat the still burning cigarette into the weightless interior of the hangar and quickly crushed it beneath his heel, even if he felt nothing, no pride, nor righteous fulfillment from his deeds he still had feddies to kill, he still had comrades to protect.

Climbing back into the interior of his Zaku, with the cockpit sealed he waited for the interior of the suit to pressurize before activating the primary camera, flipping exterior speaker on he spoke aloud. "Sieg Zeon." He breathed out to the work weary and exhausted technicians that continued to work on his team's mobile suits even as their own ship crumbled around them. He offered comrades he had only known for days a salute within his Zaku even as the exterior hangar bay doors slowly opened and the catapult began moving into position.

With clenched fist raised they shared his cry of victory to Zeon, that was the motto of the Zeon military after all.

 **Victory: Life or Death.**

Thirty nine minutes later the Musai Light Crusier: Zeal was sunk-all sixty seven hands were lost aboard the vessel including Captain Rainor.

It was only one of seven Musai lost in that battle by the time it ended hours later.

* * *

 **0079 January Third**

 **MS-05B Zaku I, Federation picket line at Side Two**

 **01059 hours**

"Rest easy ensigns Amelin and Galkin." He whispered more to himself then to the specters that floated through the debris strewn battlefield.

Drifting warships caught his eye, or rather their wreckage did. The Federation had fought hard to defend their precious colonial interests but it had all been for naught. Spent shell casings floated amidst the metallic carnage of the battlefield, the broken bullet ridden frames of Saberfish mingled with the destroyed remnants of Gobble fighter craft. In the aftermath of battle enemy and friend alike shared space in the graveyard the outlying kilometers of Side Two had become.

The battlefield had been chaos just minutes before, but now only silence and scattered com reports entered into his cockpit. The Federation picket line defending the colonies of Side Two had fallen, after hectic hour after hour the Federation forces that had not fled from the sector were destroyed. The price had been high, ultimately higher then he had thought with the loss of so many of their warships and Zaku but the Federation had finally quit the field. Twenty six Salamis Cruisers, Ten Magellan Battleships, more then a hundred confirmed Saberfish all lost to the Federation for the war now.

The losses for Zeon? Seven Musai Cruisers were destroyed, two were heavily damaged and were likely complete losses, eleven Zaku mobile suits and around forty or so fighter craft. Zeon had lost over four hundred personal in the space of a few hours along with nearly a dozen valuable mobile suits. Gihren and the admiralty likely knew their losses would be heavy but even so, they had won. The Federation had been pushed back from Side Two, leaving behind the wreckage of their once proud fleet along with the many hundreds that had undoubtedly perished aboard. Whatever the losses Zeon suffered this day, the Federation had paid much more, even now they were receiving scattered messages from their fleets across the Sides that it was more or less the same, despite suffering losses, some even higher then their own sector they were gaining ground and the Federation was falling back to their principle command base in space-Side One.

The seat of their parliament was also under siege but due to the heavy presence of Minovsky particles the reports come from that front were little more then mindless battle reports without any sort of context. Of course that battle would be far more descive and bloody then this one was, after all Side One was not only the seat of the Federation in space it was also the closest Side to their major military facility at Luna II. It would undoubtedly be one of the most hard fought theaters in the war that had only just been declared hours before.

He undid the fastens upon his helmet and let the pressurized protective device come free with the familiar snapping hiss of escaping oxygen. Free of the constraints of his helmet he ran his gloved hands across his face wiping the sweat that been building away for hours from his drenched hair, there was nothing to do now but wait until recovery forces could move into position and collect the surviving Zaku, his power plant was on it's last leg having to abandon the Zeal mid charge had forced him to expend far more energy then he normally would ever dream of drawing from the reactor. The end result was that his Zaku was dead in the water floating amid the graves of Zeon and Federation alike.

Undoing the thick inlaid grips of the standard gloves of his normal suit he freed his left hand before casually tossing the sweat soaked glove to the side. Digging into the sealed pockets of his suit he retrieved the familiar pack of cigarettes before pulling one free with his teeth and biting into the butt, he disliked smoking in his Zaku but given this was no longer a combat scenario and he still likely had a while before pickup he ultimately decided his craving for nicotine would be satisfied. Lighting the little stick proved no challenge even in the crampt interior of the Zaku and soon the stale and recycled air had a new more pungent and organic smell added to its artificial mixture.

With only basic life support and communications online he could theoretically draw power to fuel those functions for several hours longer but even so, the sooner pick up came the better. But to think he'd be floating dead in the vacuum in the aftermath of his first battle, in the aftermath of the Zeon victory that had taken place here, it was embarrassing but more then that it was insulting to the men and women of Zeon that had died here, this place was holy in his eyes. A memorial of the first great Zeon victory in hopefully a bloody but short war, his own two squad members were here as well which made it all the more potent.

He hadn't known either of them well, he had been given a file on both and while their service records indicated skill there was no personal relationship to be found. They were just yet more fallen comrades, yet even still they had been in his unit, had been under his command and it had ultimately killed both of them. Still their mission had been accomplished, he knew that their spirits would rest easy with all the blood of the Federation that had been spilled. Yet even so it all came back to that surprise attack on the Zeal though, if the Federation had just given them a few minutes more...his reactor wouldn't be in such a pitiful state, he wouldn't be drifting among the dead and dying in this battlefield.

It was a glaring flaw in the generation one Zaku, unlike its more advanced sibling the Zaku II which had nearly a tenth more power output then his antiquated Zaku I. If he had been given a more modern suit he would have been able to leave the battlefield under his own fusion reactor, but as things stood if he tried to expend anymore energy the suit's thermal draw system would all likelihood force the reactor into meltdown and he didn't fancy becoming space dust as soon his first battle ended. So he would wait, he still had hours worth of air in his Zaku and normal suit, and if things really got down to the wire he could abandon the suit and try to signal recovery forces with his emergency kit located just beneath his seat.

Smoke trailed from his cigarette, the battle at Side Two may have finally ended but this war had only just begun. He wouldn't miss the battles that were to come, after all today marked his ascension from a mere academy graduate to that of one of the Principalities aces, yes with twelve Saberfish shot down along with two Salamis, not to mention the Magellan he had assisted in destroying hours early he now likely stood as one of the most accredited pilots in the Side Two campaign, he wouldn't be denied further fighting. Even if he felt nothing at the prospect of taking further life, no apprehension, no fear, no pride. He had his skill and that was proved this day, and twenty minutes later when a Gobble Fighter squadron surveyed the battlefield to look for surviving friendly forces and to recover damaged Mobile Suits that would undoubtedly be reserviced for future use he knew that in mere hours more he would be in yet another battlefield.

* * *

 **0079 January Third**

 **Musai Light Cruiser: Wrath, in transit to Zeon Battle Group 001**

 **01300 hours**

Stripping out of his sweat drenched normal suit and changing into the more formal dress uniform befitting his place in the military as a officer Dieter sat on the bunk that had been assigned to him aboard the surviving task force 13 light cruiser Wrath, the darkened chamber had been many open spots from where the Wrath's own personal would be trying to catch some much needed sleep but several were vacant, including the three that would undoubtedly have been occupied by the cruiser's own Mobile Suit detachment...had all three not been killed in action at Side Two. He felt drained, the rush of adrenaline that he had felt engaging enemies at the battle lines had long since faded yet even so he didn't sleep. Partially due to fear of what his subconscious may conjure from the myriad of content that had been adsorbed this day but also because he was still technically on standby.

It was hard to believe that his briefing with Captain Rainor had only been hours ago, it felt like years had passed since he had met the Captain of the Zeal and been given his mission, the battles that had came after, the killing and chaos. Losing his squad, fighting and fighting, his 105mm Machine Gun being drained dry by the swarms of attacking Saberfish, him having to resort to just using the ranged weapon as a improvised crude cudgel to batter aside the opposition. The time he spent floating among the dead of comrades and enemies alike in the quiet aftermath of the battle, his suit being towed to the Wrath to be refitted and repaired as they secured their borders along the Side. Him meeting with Captain Alden of the Wrath and being assigned quarters aboard the vessel, he was treated as a war hero, a prodigal son of Side Three, the conquering Spacenoid.

He supposed he was, he had fought, had defeated the enemy although he had been only one of numerous other soldiers fighting against the Federation at Side Two, but he had been the one to fire the G-3 into the colony, that part of his report was not mentioned to Alden. Rainor had made it clear that he was to speak of no one about that assignment, it had come down from the very top, and with the Zeal destroyed along with its reports and mission statements, all evidence of the deed were erased save those back in the homeland of Side Three. It would be up to Gihren if that action merited distinction upon his record or not...the man who had slain a colony with the press of a trigger. The very notion of it made him crack a small thin smile, it was hard to believe that these tools of colony construction made such formidable weapons, and yet they did, today was proof of that. Warheads that a century prior would have required long range bomber craft could merely be carried into position by a Zaku and launched, the Federation had no idea what was coming for them, while he knew very little of the overall strategy that the ministry of war was going to employ even he knew that Side Three possessed enough nuclear arms to devastate dozens of colonies and still have enough left over to glass a thousand square miles of the Earth.

The Zaku C Type was case in point of that, in the simulator one of it's weapon's was in fact a ranged nuclear launch platform. While he didn't know if nuclear arms had been employed yet by Zeon he wouldn't be shocked if that happened to actually be the case. The effectiveness of nuclear weapons in space while limited could not be denied, especially upon stationary targets like fleets, colonies and entrenched positions. Yet the Federation undoubtedly held more nuclear weapons in reserve then Zeon did, if this became a war of nuclear annihilation would Side Three become just a collection of glowing embers floating through space? With that pleasant thought in mind and the decision that even attempting sleep was now pointless he rose from the bunk and walked out of the barracks, floating through the steel halls of the vessel he decided that at the very least he would get some food, after all the last meal he had enjoyed had been little more then just a protein bar in his Zaku while awaiting pickup, military rations may not be gourmet eating but even that surely wouldn't be as bland and tasteless as the emergency rations stashed in his kit.

The shipboard mess was mostly vacant but a few personal were lounging about it, several rose from their table at his entrance and raised their hand in salute mandating that he return the gesture. Heading to the side of the mess where the coffee machine was a forgone conclusion, he needed caffeine, at the very least it would provide him more energy, noting that the pot was half filled already he merely took one of the several thermoses already placed by before filling it upwards, the coffee was black as coal and there was no sweeteners or cream provided but even so he couldn't be picky after all this was a warship not a civilian passenger cruiser. Picking a vacant table he seated himself at only to stare outward towards one of the portholes that several of the crew had gathered around, even from this distance he could see the outline of explosions and battle.

Side One as he suspected was offering serious resistance, no wonder the higher ups were diverting all available forces to this sector.

Draining the interior of the thermos of the bitter draft of unsweetened cold coffee he thought back again, just hours ago he had been traveling to Side Two alongside his team, aboard a differing warship. Now the Zeal was sunk and his two squad mates were dead, he felt little remorse for the Federation soldiers he had killed and even less for the colony he had purged, the Feddies had it coming and the countless people of the colony had seen the writing on the wall for a generation, Side Three had made no efforts to hide its hatred of colonial rule after it had secured its own freedom. Yet those outside of the Principality of Zeon did nothing, they did not clamor to break free of Earth's control they were content to allow that planetary government to rule space forever, that was why it took the hand of true Spacenoids to invoke that change, to force the colonies under the banner of Spacenoid independence. After all that muddy little speck in the cosmos may have been humanities birthplace but it was also home to the tyranny of the Federation, far better to be ruled by your own kind then by some ignorant foreigner.

He did regret not knowing his squad better but that was something he couldn't correct, Galkin had been unlucky and had taken a stray mega particle beam shot from a battleship that had just evaporated his Zaku at the waist, the explosion that resulted from his reactor breaching and explosion had been visible even from across the battlefield. He hadn't know the man for more then a few days but even so the loss hurt, soldiers like him would only become more and more valuable after all, mobile suit pilots were the one crucial commodity that gave Zeon a edge in this war, now that loss would have to be replaced by some runt from the Academy...assuming the war lasted that long. Amelin however hadn't been killed by stray fire, he had been shot down, a squadron of fifteen Saberfish had somehow broken through their lines during the assault on the Federal positions and had engaged his Zaku, he had downed six of them but the remaining Saberfish merely unleashed a swarm of missiles and bullets that had ripped his Zaku apart.

For Amelin he had charged forward and downed the nine remaining Saberfish, they had expended much of their munitions and were undoubtedly going to return to whatever ship they were based upon but he never gave them that chance, revenge for his final squadmate, retribution for the Federation killing yet another soldier of Zeon prompted his wrath and he fallen upon them in a cold and calculated spree of violence. First he had engaged the rear most units, those likely to have still had munitions to expend against him, with those removed he had cut apart the front line destroying those who couldn't fight back and when his machine gun ran dry he simply reverted to ripping the spacecraft apart with his mobile suit's bare limbs, even now he remembered the globules of blood that had erupted from a Saberfish cockpit when he had punched open the canopy, likely crushing the pilot in the process.

Thoughts of retribution for the dead though left a sour taste in his mouth that had nothing to do with the bitter cold coffee he was quaffing down. However those thoughts were erased with a larger spherical explosion caught his eye, even from tens of millions of kilometers away it was a brief but eclipsing thing. That had undoubtedly had been a nuclear detonation, he didn't know if the Federation had unleashed their nuclear stockpile or if one of the battle fleet's Zaku had fired a nuclear attack upon the enemy, either way he stared at that brilliant spectacle until it faded, he didn't bother shielding his eyes. While the light was stunning, near blinding it was also exceptionally beautiful, in a haunting way the detonations of a nuclear weapon in space were almost artistic, rather then a mushroom cloud they erupted into a spherical cone of blinding light and fury as their payload exploded.

He didn't know how the battle was going but if anything that he had learned since coming aboard the Wrath had told him it was that the Federation was dug in and it wasn't giving ground, the fleet around that collection of colonies dwarfed any Federal battle force elsewhere in the colonies, there would be no retreat from Side One, the Federation would defend it to the last man or die trying. It was his job to ensure that they did die to the last man, the sooner that Side fell and the Federation was pushed out of space, the sooner the Federation could sue for peace to end this war.

As the Musai came closer and closer to the battlefield that raged before him couldn't help but think that this would be the battle to decide the victor of this war, that if the Federation fell here...then its surrender would only be a matter of time rather then a if they would surrender. The final end of the Federation was visible to him through that porthole in that instance and it would come to them in mere hours. Side One, the new front line of this hours long war would be the death knell for it.

* * *

 **AN: Ah from the battlefields of Side Two to Side One, while a lot of the opening volleys of the war is only barely covered in any of the material for UC Gundam I have always been under the impression that the first hectic week of the war was so bloody and devastating to both sides simply because the Federation simply had a military that was far larger then what Zeon possessed. That said Zeon is pressing them back, Side Two has fallen, numerous colonies with its sector have been destroyed and now all principle efforts are being made to crush the Federation forces at their capital of Side One. This latest battlefield in this war that is not even twelve hours old is where the next chapter will find Dieter.**

 **His role, and deeds with this coming battle are what the next chapter will specifically cover and will directly lead into the next chapter and its setting during the rest of the One Week Battle.**

 **Anyway I hope to see you all next on my first UC Gundam Fic: Soldier of Zeon**

 **Till next time.**

 **-Reborn Akatsuki.**


	3. Side One

**AN: Here we are for chapter three in my little story "Soldier of Zeon". I do hope you are enjoying yourself so far, I am happy to say that this is perhaps the most fun I have actually had writing in quite some time. Believe it or not I am a long time Gundam fan, I originally grew up watching MSG 0079 way back when I was a child when my older brother actually brought home a bootleg betamax copy of the original 43 episode series, yeah this was a while ago, remember betamax? Anyway it sealed my love of the franchise that has persisted through out the following decades, and finally here I am writing out a story set in the universe I grew so fond of as a child.**

 **Anyway this chapter finds Dieter directly after the second chapter, and leads into the events of January 4th, 5th and 6th, what he was doing during Operation British, his meetings with various notable figures, his battles, etc, etc. His mental and physical evolution throughout the period of a month, after all this story is just set in the first month of the war, and while there may be a sequel if my interest in such a tale piques so far there is no plans for it. But yes Dieter's growth as a person throughout the month, how he adapts, and thinks, how those processes change due to his experiences, how his world view changes as a result of his actions. Exciting stuff no?**

 **I mean not only will you witness his battles, his triumphs and defeats but you will also see him changing from what he was at the start of the story into what he is at it's conclusion. The subtle shifting of personality and mindset. Dang this is starting to grow pretty long so I do think we are nearing the end alright?** **I dislike writing out overly long author's notes so how about I end this here so you all can enjoy the story down below?**

 **Disclaimer:** **I do not own Mobile Suit Gundam or any of its respective characters, locations, and items, that said the original characters included in this story are of my own creation and therefore my respective intellectual property.**

* * *

 **"Stand by for a message from Vice Admiral Dozle, I repeated all personal stand by for a message from Admiral Dozle."** The intercom message aboard the Wrath cut out after that command, Admiral Dozle himself, one of the highest ranking officers of the Principality, one of the sons of the Sovereign Degwin Zabi was going to address the troops personally, the notion brought a faint smile to his lips. Dozle hadn't changed a bit, he had known his upperclassmen back in his days at the Academy years ago, even then he had demonstrated a incredible ability to rally the men of Zeon to battle.

The command stilled the impatience in his breast even as he stared outward through the hangar at the battle lines raging before them, dozens of Musai were facing off against hordes of Salamis cruisers, even some of the newer Chivvay class heavy cruisers, also present and more noticeable then anything else was the presence of three massive Gwazine battleships that were trading fire with four Federation Magellans. The naval battle alone at Side One was beyond anything that had happened in the entirety of the battle that had come to Task Force 13, clearly Admiral Dozle's task group was far larger and had many more warships in its makeup to breach the crucial defenses of the Federation capital. Even so the battle seemed to be fairly even despite the technological advantages granted to the warships of the Zeon fleet, the Federation had far more warships deployed then Zeon could match, even so the battle looked about even.

Ships erupted into hails of shrapnel and debris under the impact of laser weaponry and missiles, and yet for every ship lost be it Federation or Zeon another would seemingly take its place in this endless procession of death, nuclear fire erupted across the lines of both sides, mobile suits charged positions overwhelming entire flotilla's and yet the Federation never broke ranks and ran, out there in that chaos were the two 'kings' on this chess board, Revil and Dozle. If one was managed to be removed from play then the other side would falter, but until that moment came the soldiers under both of them would continue to kill and die as commanded.

"Soldiers of Zeon!" The familiar voice rang out through the intercom, deep masculine tone of the single largest, toughest man he had ever known commanded respected on purely a physical level, belying the very patriotism and devotion to his soldiers that the Admiral was known for. Even so every man and woman present in the hangar stopped working even as the battle raged on around them. "Today we as soldiers of Zeon shall find victory, I cannot promise you safety nor that this fight will be easy, but I can ensure that each and every one of you that falls today shall be remembered forever!" While Dozle was no master orator like his elder brother Gihren the man could rally soldiers, cheers ranged out from across the vessel even as it sped towards the battle being fought all around them."Today we fight for freedom, for glory and for all those who made this day possible, for all those who died in squalor and poverty to feed the Federation's vanity! For all those who died in our bid for freedom, for all those who grew up orphans because of the crushing oppression of the Federation, today we honor them all!" The cheering had stopped, even the warmth Dieter had felt prior in the Admiral's speech was now absent, everyone knew at least one person back home in Side Three who had died or suffered because of the Federation, if they had not experienced it personally it was none the less a subject matter that would touch everyone in Zeon.

The military was made up of those who had suffered, those who had lost to the Federation after all, that burning all consuming revenge that drove them on this path. He remembered the lean times in the 0060s during which his family had been forced into dire straits by the economy embargo placed upon Side Three after it had declared independence, without the resources and materials of Earth it had been forced into being solely reliant upon what the Side itself could produce from its colonies, his family had come to close to starvation more then once. Food shortages, medical shortages, material shortages, colonies that were in dire need of repair became slums of the disenfranchised, even as a child he had known that the Federation was a uncaring beast, a government made up of the wealthy of earth, that 'rich man's club' cared nothing for but its own gain. It came at the expense of everyone that lived under its yoke, it was unthinkable that only they of Side Three were those who found it intolerable and yet no other colony came to their aid, in the darkness of deep space they had rebuilt their shattered society and finally the day of their revenge had come.

In his youth he had grown up in the outer rings of Zum City, his family had never been wealthy but they had lived a comfortable life. That came to a end the day that Deikun died. Riots erupted across the colonies, but in the colony named after the now deceased autocrat and philosopher it became a living hell. War raged in the streets between those drunken on rage and wrath, who sought to blame the Federation for the death of Deikun, countless people died in those blurry weeks but in their waning embers that loss would soon pale in comparison to what occurred in the aftermath. When Side Three formally declared independence the Federation rather then replying militarily the Federation responded in a decisively economic fashion. Federation holdings and interests were pulled out, factories across the Side shut down, businesses closed and the outside wealth and industry that kept the Side financially stable was ripped from them. His parents had been employed at such a factory, producing tempered steel and glass products for Federation space craft, with their business now absent that site of industry closed down, for all the charity that the Zabi's would provide their people they never could seemingly do enough.

Even with the rampant military build up over the following decade it was only after he had enlisted had his family ceased teetering upon the line between poverty and starvation. That was also when the darker aspects of being independent financially of the Federation came up, their population now required monitors and standards, every citizen had to meet the basic criteria for fitness and wellness. Babies that would be born with crippling defects such as blindness or organ misplacement or malformation were purged in utero, the state did not have the resources to care for them and in the aftermath of the financial crisis of the prior years it came as no surprise. In Side Three only those who could stand to the standards of the Principalities doctrine were allowed to survive, this effected him but only in a minor way. His parents had tried to conceive another child after his enlistment, a replacement he supposed when this cold war between Federation and Principality broke out into the raging inferno it would become...his would be sister never saw the light of the artificial day of the home colonies of Side Three though.

 _She_ had been discovered through ultrasound to possess a peculiar trait in _her_ eyes, they were whitening even in the womb as if _she_ was blind, and at not even 'her' fifth month. For the crime of corneal opacity what could have been another family member, another Spacenoid had fate been kinder was painlessly executed through a combination of chemicals. He knew why such a policy existed, there could be no drain on their resources, there could be no support system for those who could not meet the basic standards of Zeon, it also existed to carry the message of Spacenoid superiority, their population would only be made of at the very worst the 'average' colony dweller, it as if the Zabi's were trying to create their own ubermensch in the foreign tongue his father had taught him that came from the land back on Earth from where his family dwelled before they were ejected into space generations ago. He couldn't blame them, at the very least this message of racial superority, of cultural superiority...allowed their nation to be unified.

There were no dissenting voices in Side Three, not in the military, not in the parliament and not in the economic sector.

"Now enough with the speeches, lets go send these Feddies straight to hell! Sieg Zeon!" Dozle concluded as the speech cut out to the once again raving crowds of soldiers assembled throughout the ship, work resumed but there was no longer any doubt, any hesitation had been wiped away by the Admiral's words. His own Zaku was the only mobile suit present in the hangar but even so the minor damage it had received at Side Two required at least a few more minutes of attention, not to mention the refilling of his armaments, he knew that the Wrath likely had a spare Heat Hawk aboard, that would be something he'd have to inquire about. At Side Two he had to use his mobile suit's bare hands or his empty machine gun as a club, if he had a dedicated melee weapon to switch to after his ranged armament ran out of ammunition it would make fighting all the easier.

Not to mention he needed another damn gun after the crap that went down to even get here.

* * *

 **0079 January Third**

 **Musai Light Cruiser: Wrath**

 **Meeting with relief forces in route to Side One**

 **1500 hours**

"Reinforcements coming nine degrees to stern, it looks like what's left of Task Force 18. Four Musai, and a single Chivvay sporting heavy battle damage, seeing the hull warping and peeling inward off of it's bow?" One of the bridge crew questioned aloud of another. The ship in question seemed to be drifting more then being pushed along by the power of its own engines even so the sight of additional warships relieved him slightly, with every additional warship they gathered into their force the more apparent their eventual victory. After all for every warship present in this sector, it meant that it was no longer needed in other fronts, Zeon was gaining ground although the cost was high.

"Unidentified warships, please respond over." Arms crossed Dieter gazed out from the bridge viewport, Captain Alden was merely being cautious it was obvious that these vessels were Zeon in origin. But this was a active battle front and even if these were the sole survivors of their task grouping, if they had broken ranks and fled from where they had been assigned, they were traitors. Soldiers were supposed to fight and die to the last man according to the higher ups, even officers were expendable as long as the set goals of the operation were met.

"Musai: Wrath acknowledge hail-this is Lieutenant Commander Vasquez acting commander of the Chivvay Heavy Cruiser: Pincer over." After the transmission Dieter eyed the collection of damaged warships with sympathy, those vessels were all that were left of a assigned force, he didn't even need to know the rest of the story after all that was how he has found himself aboard the Wrath rather then the Zeal as he had been assigned. "The vessel registration is valid, although it isn't assigned to be under this 'Vasquez'." Alden grumbled clearly displeased at the prospect of such turn of events occurring aboard his own ship. "Acknowledged Pincer, explain presence in this sector." Alden commanded. The communication array barked static and interference due to the heavy presence of Minovsky in this sector but eventually the com line between the vessels was once again restablished and the increasingly strained young voice of the LCDR broke into the silence. "We have been retasked to Side One but our vessel has suffered heavy damage, most of the command crew was killed at the battle of Side Four. We have numerous wounded and causalities aboard, we request assistance over."

"Shit...Acknowledged Pincer we will move into position to provide assistance." Alden likely didn't want to be behind schedule but those were their men aboard that ship suffering and being left to rot where they fell, as Spacenoids who died in the service to their nation they deserved better. "All ships, move to point 192 on the grid and form a perimeter, all hands we are entering combat stage three, begin charge up of mega particle cannons and divert engine output to a third to reverse thrusters." Alden was in his element, from the few hours he had known the career officer he had come across as a very by the book sort, none the less it was obviously painful for him to bare witness to the barely maneuverable hunks of scrap metal these once proud warships had become.

"Wrath, we are reading you on our scopes please provide overwatch as we offload wounded personal." It was only then that his eye noticed several marked medical vessels trailing behind the collection of Musai and the Chivvay, they were nothing more then repurposed freighters, cargo haulers that had been stripped down and turned into mobile field hospitals. Their request made sense, with Federal forces fleeing all across the Sides and their own communication across their fleets being in such chaos no one could account for every ship that had made up the various defense fleets across the Federally aligned colonies.

Where this task force had acquired these medical vessels, didn't matter it only mattered to him that no Federation ships interfered with the transfer of personal aboard them from the damaged Chivvay and Musai in what was once a mighty Zeon task force. "Sir we have incoming silhouettes on screen at point 274, starboard at thirty thousand meters...the imaging is hazy but they appear to be Federation Magellan's numbers and status unconfirmed." This was bad, with every battleship in the Federation fleet there would be escorts, fighter craft, and while the Wrath and its accompaniment were still capable of fighting the Pincer and its escorts likely wouldn't be capable of offering even token resistance in their current state. Turning to the Captain he merely gave a glance at the scene before them, there were wounded and dying men aboard those ships, they wouldn't be able to fight well enough to fend off a determined enemy, even if they had the crew to man stations, the damage inflicted upon the heavy cruiser alone would prevent it from being a able combatant, these ships would be slaughtered if that Federal task force engaged. "Sir, I am going to have to request my Zaku be allowed permission to disembark and provide screening for those ships." At the very least a Zaku out there would provide some modicum of protection, was this why he fought? To protect his people? He didn't know the men aboard those ships, he didn't know anything about them except they wore the same uniform as him...was that enough for him to die trying to protect them?

Yes: he ultimately decided. They were all brothers and sisters in arms.

The captain eyed him for a moment before nodding. "Doubt I could stop you anyway, we will provide as much support as we can but our primary objective here isn't to destroy the enemy its to buy as much time as possible to offload our wounded and have those med evac ships flee this sector, after that's complete we are disengaging understood?" The message was clear, after the transfer of troops occurred, they'd pull out with or without him.

It made sense while they could happen upon fleeing enemy forces and destroy them, that wasn't their objective-their mission was to arrive at the battle lines in Side One in shape enough to still fight. They couldn't do that if they stopped to obliterate every fleeing Feddie. So when he arrived down at the Hangar mere minutes later he knew that he was not going out there to kill the enemy but to ensure that his allies made it off the field alive.

 _'Such a contradiction:Spacenoids.'_ Was the thought echoing in his head long he had climbed aboard the Musai's catapult was flung into the fray of destruction known as war. They fought to protect, to kill their enemies, to kill their support network, and yet those enemies in turn were people like them...in differing regards and extents certainly. Federal soldiers, the trash of Earth were parasites sucking the life blood out of space, but those who dwelt within the colonies, of those who called space home, there was a odd breed, they were not Spacenoids and yet they were closer to them then those who dwelt upon that mud ball known as Earth. Pressing downward on the triggering stud he unleashed his fury. Unloading a entire magazine of his 105mm machine gun into the bow of a onrushing Magellan, bullet after bullet freed itself of the chamber as they rushed towards the armored hull of the enemy warship, the heavy rounds pierced the hull, leaving jagged broken wounds in the vessel and causing the ship to lurch and begin to list as its charge died under his hail of bullets, he thought that he had crippled the ship. It was only instinct, honed to a razor's edge in the Academy of Zeon seconds later that saved his life. He felt the hairs upon the back of his neck stand up just as he had the Zaku go into a frantic dive to avoid a sudden barrage by the vessel's anti ship guns, the thick beams of energy that would puncture his mobile suit like a helium filled balloon narrowly missing his suit by mere meters. The Wrath traded fire with the stilled warship, its turrets unleashing bolts of energy and volleys of anti ship missiles, this battle had only lasted a handful of minutes so far but with his munitions reduced to his suit's bare hands he had few options.

His proximity alarm wailed in his helmeted ear as he saw several blips heading for his location from the direction of the second Magellan which was no longer trading fire with one of the Wrath's escort Musai as the Zeon warship was drifting away in the vacuum as flaming wreckage, the ship looked as if it had been cleaved in two by a series of mega particle cannon shots. His feet pushing downward on the pedals as he tried to steady out the mobile suit. His suit readout informed him that his machine gun's store of ammunition was empty and he didn't have another spare clip for, tossing the useless weapon away his mono eyed camera focused upon the the sight of the medical evacuation haulers peeling away from the battle, as quickly as their engines would take them.

Smiling within the interior of his helmet he broke away from the battle back in transit to his Musai, he had damaged a single warship. Avoid dying, and helped ensure that the Pincer and its escorts wounded would be treated to the best of the ability of the infield doctors. Not bad, it was a good thing the Pincer actually had been in formation with medical ships, who knows how long it could have taken had they been forced to wait for medical evacuation ships? Catching his suit's readout however his smile turned into a grimace as he growled outward into his helmet. The Federation's laser barrage hadn't been a clean a miss as he had thought, several inches of his suit's right leg were now boiled away, several circuits were burnt out or warped and while it wasn't a crippling injury done to his Zaku it was yet another bit of battle damage that would further ground this increasingly beat up gen one Zaku that had been hoisted upon him.

"Just fucking great." He sighed into his sealed helmet causing it to fog, just how could this day get any worse?

* * *

 **0079 January Third**

 **MS-05B Zaku I, battle lines of Side One, section 5, N Field**

 **1700 hours**

Avoiding the frantic cannon fire from the soon to be doomed vessel was easy even as he had his Zaku land atop its command deck, staring downward through the camera into the bridge he saw the frantic Federation soldiers and crew scrambling, no doubt trying to avoid the death that awaited them on the warship. The heat hawk struck downward into the bridge of the vessel cleaving through armored battle plate as if it was nothing, the erupting oxygen from the hull caught fire bathing his monitor in crimson flame. The burning thermal energy ate downward even further causing the bridge viewports to burst outward from the combustion of the air within the vessel killing the bridge crew that hadn't managed to flee instantly. That was his third Salamis of the day, another warship crippled as he forced his thrusters into a climbing leap off of the firestorm the ship was becoming in the vacuum he eyed his scopes, throughout the battlefield it was chaos and death in equal measure. Warships trading fire with each at near point blank range, mobile suit squadrons having to avoid their own side's fire as much as the enemy, even Admiral Dozle if rumor was correct had taken the field in his Royal Zaku. A grin broke out upon his helmeted face, that was just like Dozle, the man as much as he would loathe to admit as it would lower morale, probably hated the position he had gained after graduation, as a Admiral he was expected to sit behind the battle lines and direct forces and watch status reports and incoming fleet messages rather then engaging the enemy, none the less he excelled in this task but it was the type of commander he was. He belonged on the front lines and he led from the front.

Nuclear fire decimated the front line, ships crumbled inward under the light and fury of megatons worth of force being detonated in their proximity, Zeon and Federation died in that hellish blinding light, that detonation had come from M Field, the portion of the battlefield closest to his own, Dozle wasn't in command of that division but it possessed one of the massive Gwazine battleships so clearly whatever officer was running that theater was held in the highest regard, there weren't even a dozen of those behemoths in the entire Zeon navy. More flashes of nuclear eruptions broke along the ranks of the Federation, Salamis's simply evaporated in the blast, armored plate boiled outward as it was subjected to the force of a miniature sun exploding outward. Yes whomever was in command of that sector had no reserve for the usage of nuclear force, of course the tactic was viable Zeon couldn't afford to slug it out for a extended period of time with the Federation navy they had to breach those lines, and the sooner the better. Nuclear weapons were just a useful tool in that regard. The radiation detectors within the suit began to go crazy as waves of intense and concentrated bursts of those particles were undoubtedly floating freely amidst the battlefield and while his standard Zaku bore none of the trademark protections of the later C type Zaku, he doubted he'd get radiation sickness merely by continuing to operate in the field for a while longer at the very least.

He was shaken from his battle analysis however as the proximity alarms on his Zaku began ringing out anxiously, his camera veered up the track only to catch a swarm of Saberfish fighter craft barreling towards him, using the very explosion of the Salamis to cloak their approach on his position. "Clever Feddies." He granted them as he tossed the now drained Heat Hawk aside, the melee instrument only had about a half dozen charges in its internal energy sink before it became nothing but a standard cleaver, and while it could still be effective, or even energized by his own thermonuclear reactor, he had a far more effective weapon for those space craft then an ax. Letting his mobile suit reached downward behind it's larger thruster pack he felt the massive fingers clip hold of what he sought before pulling it upward, the large drummed 120mm machine gun rose upward into the thirteen position, his targeting computer already syncing with the weapon and providing firing trajectories on the incoming Saberfish. "Die." He commanded as he pressed the firing stud downward unleashing a hail of bullets upon the charging Saberfish who had yet to reach effective firing angles for his Zaku, it was their fault for charging what they had thought to be a helpless Zaku. The fire of his machine gun sent the Saberfish scattering but even so three of the twelve space craft were ripped to shreds by the heavy rounds, the large bullets tearing through fuselage and cockpits as if nothing had been in their way. The survivors however rather then avenging their comrades turned and fled, breaking into looser formations to avoid counter fire from him and other Zeon units operating in the field. How many Feddies had he killed today? He didn't know the standard composition of personal aboard warships, but he knew that Saberfish were single pilot craft so fourteen of those shot down equaled out to fourteen Feddies killed, if one didn't count the colony would his body count be in the hundreds by this point? If Salamis were crewed anything like Musai or Chivvay then their personal count was over fifty personal per vessel, he felt nothing but disquiet at the thought.

Where was the guilt he was supposed to feel for taking life? Were was that nagging sense of conscience that people had told would plague him if he became a soldier? With those thoughts in mind he turned his eye towards the E Field, though it was across the field he could see the frenzy of Zeon mobile suits breaking through the firing angles of Federation ships, the return fire from the Musai and Chivvay warping hull plate and sending explosions cascading down the line. Dozle was there along with his royal guard, that was where he'd be, where the fighting was thickest, where the enemy was most concentrated. The field he and the Wrath had been assigned that was engaging the border picket had to contend with similar numbers of enemy vessels but it was clear that Revil, the master strategist of the Federation, the commander of its military was not directing forces here. "lieutenant Kries, report." The familiar voice of Captain Alden broke in on his communication array, with nary a thought of rebuking the order he flipped the toggle and replied through the microphone within the interior of his helmet. "Sir, the battle is going well, our fielded Zaku are holding their own and the enemy is losing vessels rapidly, so far I have destroyed one Salamis myself and our unit has successfully managed to cripple another four, our lines are in no threat of falling in this field." His report wasn't meant to be display his own valor or skill when compared to that of the other pilots merely to inform the officer that thing were well in hand out here on the battle lines. "Good now I know you must be tired and running low on munitions, but expect redeployment to M Field within twenty minutes, the ship you will be assigned to is...the Gwaden under Captain Delaz." The order left him stilled Aiguille Delaz, one of the most vocal and fanatical long time supporters of Gihren Zabi. There had been stories circulating about that man since his appearance in the military, that he had in the past alongside others of Gihren's inner circle had covertly eliminated any and all opposition to to the Zabi Family's rise to power. A decade before this war had been declared he had been fighting if the rumor mill was to be believed.

How many Deikun supporters had that man killed? How many Ral supporters? His own countrymen, his own people...there were just too many stories, too many cases of missing people or 'accidents' with his name involved to merely be coincidence, and here he was being assigned to him. It may have just been for the battle, but never the less it left him feeling nervous in a way that prospective battle with the Federation never could. He could fight back against the Federation, he could kill Feddies...

"Acknowledged." He replied breathlessly, while he was no traitor to Zeon, no spineless coward who thought that the Federation could be appeased through political channels or negotiation, but he knew that if Gihren Zabi's 'shadow' as Delaz as he had come to be known throughout the military thought he might be too softhearted or not fervent enough in belief...he'd disappear not unlike countless others, but even so he'd follow the orders. After all what could Delaz say to a man that had purged a colony for his homeland? How could he label him as a traitor? A coward? He had done what he had been ordered to do even when it went against every tenant of morality ever conceived of by man.

He pulled the trigger and killed who knows how many. Thoughts drifting back to the destruction he had unleashed, the grass beneath his mobile suit's armored legs blackening and dying, people breaking down in the intense chemical compounds, gore and meat soaking streets, the death of a nation unleashed with the mere pull of a trigger.

* * *

 **0079 January Third**

 **Gwazine class battleship: Gwaden**

 **1900 hours**

"Three confirmed Salamis destroyed, over a dozen Saberfish shot down, assisted in destroying a Federation battleship, protected a damaged Chivvay and its flotilla while they offloaded wounded personal despite having to face down a Federal attack squadron with only minimal support and carried out the order to eliminate colony 13, I must say lieutenant you have suitably impressed me with your service in a single day. The fact that you yet live is impressive, to face down the might of the Federation in open combat, to defeat them and ensure our success. This list of achievements sounds as if it comes out of a history book detailing the actions of a war." The shaven headed Captain smiled, it was a thin and tight gesture that looked unnatural upon his well angled hawkish features yet never the less the gesture was telling. His reaction seemed earnest, truthful, as if he had actually impressed the man.

Yet even more surprising was what he had spoken of. This man knew of the colony 13 attack, of course he would, he was the right hand of Gihren Zabi, one of his oldest, most loyal followers. If anyone within Zeon outside of the Zabi family knew of the purging of colonies, it would be him, for all Dieter knew he had been one of the instigators of the event in question. He said nothing, he could say nothing, if he argued semantics or morality that would merely weaken his accomplishments before a man who could easily order his death, he'd disappear...yet another 'unfortunate' loss in the opening day of war.

"lieutenant, it is rare for me to be impressed by a single soldier. Indeed this day has laid the fruits for a new generation of legends to be born." The Captain spoke aloud from the command chair atop the bridge, sitting within that throne Delaz appeared as if he was a king rather then merely just a middle ranking military officer who was beholden to a chain of superiors. "But your actions today have given me hope for the future, for a future free of the accursed Federation, free of that indecisive weakness and lack of character that dominates our pathetic species. You are a model soldier." This man was nothing like any other officer he had ever known, he spoke in a manner similar to Gihren, seemingly had that same intense charisma. He was a man that demanded respect, loyalty...this was the figure that was the boogeyman of Zeon, Gihren Zabi's triggerman and yet he came off as almost a parental figure.

This was a man that he could easily see as a Admiral one day.

"Thank you sir." He meant as well, while he may not have liked, nor respected every officer that stood above him in rank, this was a man that he felt almost...compelled to obey, to follow. He had a sort of magnetism about him that drew in the devoted, those who would stand at his side against anything, this was a man who'd lead Zeon to victory or die trying. Of course Dieter would assist him in that regard as best as he was able, whatever misgivings those who lived aboard Side Three held about this man, this was a time of war and people like him were needed now more then ever.

"Once this battle has resumed I assume you have no objection to being sent into the field again?" That question was a easy one to reply to, of course he'd be willing to foray into battle once again, the Federation had yet to be defeated, even now the lines at Side One were holding, their fleet was managing to keep its protective cordon in place. Until this battle, this war was won he'd be at the disposal of the Principality when the Zabi's brought the Federation to the negotiation table, when the Federation begged for hostilities to end only then would he lay down his sword. After all what had he been taught in those long hard years in the academy if not to strive for greatness, through his actions, through his deeds he was laying down the foundation of not only Zeon's victory but his own. Perhaps after the war he'd be given command of more then a simple mobile suit squad, perhaps his own squadron or even a fleet would be gifted to him in light of his accomplishments, it was more then the former slum dweller had ever been offered.

In Zeon he had climbed above his station, had become a soldier, and yet now he was rising above the rank and file of their military, he had excelled in the Academy and been selected for Officer Candidacy, had been taught how to lead men, to form strategies and operate as a leader of his army. He knew his career wouldn't end at the rank of lieutenant, he'd keep striving for greater and greater authority and power, the man before him was one of the scant few non Zabi officers held in high regard save their long time supporters in the Karn faction. Delaz was case and point that greatness of the individual could be recognized and rewarded, the man was a mere captain and yet he had the ear of the Supreme Commander himself, he commanded one of the finest warships in the entire fleet, had command of his own force, had hundreds if not thousands beneath him...Delaz for all the rumors and controversy that surrounded him was a inspiration for the common man of Zeon.

"No sir." The corner of his lip curved upwards, he had no objection what so ever. How many pilots within Zeon could match his deeds? A thousand? A hundred? A dozen?

"Our own mobile suit detachment is incomplete due to losses suffered today, but clearly you are well suited to replacing that loss." As they spoke of battle losses yet more flashes of thermonuclear fire erupted across their lines, the Federation was responding to their own nuclear usage by deploying its own arsenal. Brilliant and blinding cones of light heralded the end of warships and mobile suits and yet it did not break their conversation. Aboard the Gwadan far removed from the field, there was no threat, no risk of nuclear annihilation.

"Yes sir, thank you sir." Of course he was well suited to replace that loss, his skill was proven, he was the logical choice here. Out of all the pilots of Task Force 13 he was the most accredited, the most successful, despite their losses he had walked away from Side Two a victor while his other two squad mates died. He didn't begrudge them obviously, bad luck could happen to even the most skilled, but it hadn't occurred to him yet so he would ride his victory there, and soon his victory here even higher. He dreamed not of being a legend, of being renowned but of being acknowledged, he wanted to stand among the best, he wanted to lead.

And it seemed Delaz could enable that, if he assisted the Captain here, proved note worthy perhaps Delaz would mention him to Gihren...a single pilot being brought to the attention of the leader of their nation, the very thought of it was outrageous and yet it was possible here and now.

"I expect great things from you, soon this war will end and you will reap the rewards of a grateful nation. If you succeed in your mission of naturally, of course given your track record and accomplishments, you clearly deserve better then a generation one Zaku, I shall see to it you are more suitably equipped the next time you fight in the name of our homeland." That was extremely gratifying to hear, especially the part upon improving his mobile suit selection. While the generation one Zaku had its advantages over its newer sibling they were few and in most cases the newer Zaku simply outclassed the older model, be in terms of reactor output, speed, weaponry allotted to it or even its optical camera sensor range. If he was granted a newer Zaku II then he could truly see what he was capable of within a mobile suit, rather then having to have the suit preform according to its limits, it could preform according to his own.

"Of course sir, if I may. A question sir?" This line of questioning would be dangerous, but he was curious and while that was a poor excuse for risking one's life, he felt confident in his safety aboard the bridge of Delaz's flagship before dozens of witnesses manning the vessel, it would only be afterwards when he was alone, back upon Side Three would he targeted if this proved offensive, or so he thought anyway.

"Yes?" His acceptance was surprising, Delaz was clearly a man who sought to control any situation he was placed within, be it the battlefield or political arena, he wasn't the type to let the opponent dictate him so did this indicate that the man found him worthy of respect? Did he view him as a equal? Or was this merely a ploy to gain further insight into his character? Regardless he had already asked, it wouldn't do to retract his question as it would just show him to be indecisive.

"Do you consider this war a just war?" His question so simple, so direct and yet the implication ran far deeper and both men knew it.

The bridge went eerily silent, he knew that question would be as if treading upon the thin ice of a frozen over lake, this question placed the issue of 'legitimacy' upon their struggle, upon the methods they employed to fight. The usage of chemical and nuclear weapons, the mass killings of those who did not fight in the name of the Federation, and yet he had to ask. What sort of man would he be if he simply accepted the notion that this was the proper way to fight? Why for what reason? Yes they could not fight the Federation conventionally but did that automatically defer to the killing of those who did not oppose them? Of those who merely dwelt with the realm of influence of the enemy?

Finally after a seeming eternity the Captain replied as he carefully studying the opposing man's face. Brown met Hazel as their eyes locked, he wouldn't shirk away from this gaze. He met it evenly. This man was a predator, a warrior, a man of conviction and strength, if he didn't meet him as such then he'd look weak. To look weak before a man such as this was akin to turning your back to a oncoming asteroid, both would be equally as unforgiving and deadly.

"There is no such thing, but our cause is righteous. Our war is the result of the Federation viewing us as subhuman wretches incapable of ruling ourselves, their avarice and contempt blind them to the one truth of this life. It is those with the power that dictate life, and right now we possess that power as we have demonstrated today." There was a certain appeal to that simple line of thought, that might made right, that all the morality that the Federation would tout in offense to their actions was merely the result of their own weakness. There was a appeal to that reasoning because it freed Zeon of the responsibility of engaging in this war on the terms of the foes because they were beneath them, their views, ideologies and laws were merely concepts to be thumbed away in contempt.

Even so despite the appeal he found himself wondering that evening just what made Side Three superior to the Federation, was it the fact they succeeded even when the Federation had sought to destroy them economically? Was it because they did not bow and scrape for the scraps that the Federation handed down to their thralls in the other Sides? Was it because they as a collective sought to rule themselves independent of any official on Earth? Whatever his misgivings about Zeon, about his own actions in service to the state, he knew his place. He knew his service to the nation came first and foremost, whatever moral issue he found with his work was the result of weaknesses of his own character, he could steel himself against killing others, soldiers, civilians but the very prospect of unleashing mass death upon a unsuspecting populace made him feel ill at ease.

However regardless of any internal debate that raged within him he was still standing before Aiguille Delaz, his superior and if his comments were to be taken at face value his new commander for this campaign. It wouldn't be proper to doddle. So refocusing his mind and straightening his back he raised his hand to his brow in salute and offered his departure.

"Thank you sir, I will take my leave." It was for the best after all, whatever thoughts that plagued him were not the Captain's concern, they were his own. He had to wrestle with his own choices and actions himself, how else could he look at himself in the mirror and still call himself a man if he did otherwise?

"You are dismissed lieutenant, I expect you to be ready for mobilization tomorrow at 0500." Delaz had turned his sight away from him and back towards the battle lines thousands of kilometers away, the Gwazine was in no was in danger out here but it was still close enough to the field to monitor the ongoing action. To watch as both sides turned each other into twisted flaming wreckage comprised of steel and flesh, warships became metal coffins of shrapnel and debris, clouds of radiation and nuclear fire erupted across both lines again and again, for every warhead Zeon unleashed the Federation answered in turn but they were still holding ranks even as Musai after Musai disappeared in plumes of thermonuclear wrath.

"Of course sir, I will be." He offered as he turned and walked off the bridge deck of the massive warship, once more he had been assigned new quarters in the space a single day. In one day he had gone from being assigned to one mobile suit team stationed aboard a Musai to being the sole mobile suit aboard another, to finally coming to a flagship of the entire sector fleet and being stationed aboard it. It was a generous promotion in standing, in but one day he had gone from being one of the tens of thousands of mobile suit pilots in the Principalities armed forces to being stationed aboard one of the most envious assignments surely in the entire military.

If he did well in battle tomorrow perhaps Delaz would even request he remain aboard the Gawaden as one of its permanent pilots, not just as merely a battlefield replacement for lost forces. While he cared little for further ascendance in the hierarchy of Zeon's military he knew that the further he rose, the more power he gained the more he would be able to impact this war that seemed destined to shape his own future.

And he was after all a man who sought to control his own destiny.

* * *

 **AN: Well there we are! I do hope this has proven to be the greatest chapter so far, I do hope to make this story just get better and better and better with every successive chapter. Well we had Dieter meet with Delaz this chapter, as a little spoiler for the next chapter, yes he will be meeting with Dozle in field. I do hope you all enjoy that moment when it comes and don't fret this is just the beginning, the reason I choose January is just because there are so few events documented in it, I can basically craft whatever narrative premise I want to take place within it as long as its within reason.**

 **Anyway I hope you all follow, favorite and review.**

 **See you all next time for chapter four in: The Soldier of Zeon**

 **Till then.**

 **-Reborn Akatsuki**


	4. Side One-Second Day

**AN: Ah chapter four! It seems so soon that I uploaded the first chapter into our dreadfully small UC Gundam community and I am happy that I did. Any and every entry that provides another hopefully enjoyable story to be given to the fanbase is something good. Don't get me wrong I'd like this story to be more popular, to get mountains of reviews, favorites and follows but that has never been why I have written-I write to explore concepts that intrigue me, stories that intrigue me and hopefully intrigue the audience. Popularity is nice but has never been the goal, and so it won't be the goal with this story, hence why I had the first chapter open with a colony gassing.**

 **That said I was very happy when I did notice that this story had a review last chapter, even if it is the only chapter that ever gets a single review I will be content because it was enjoyable to someone. Well with this dragging on how about we discuss the story? Alright this story finds Dieter directly after the last chapter and covers a bit more of the second day of the One Year War, ultimately I want to have pacing done well for this story so expect multiple chapters per day as the norm until we hit around January 10th aka Operation British. After that...well perhaps we can see if events pop up that may intrigue readers, also featured in today's chapter?**

 **A bit of Dieter's backstory, prior military history, etc-expect stuff like this to occasionally be tossed in as just flavor text for the character and explain where this character was before the war, how he thought, what he did, stuff like that.**

 **Anyway enough with the rambling, let's get down to the chapter I am sure you will all enjoy.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam, this spiel grows tiring after a while so nothing clever this time.**

* * *

 **Zeon Battle Group under Captain Delaz**

 **MS-06C Zaku II, battlefields of Side One, assigned grid position 98.17**

 **January 4th 0079**

 **0900 Hours**

For the past four hours he had been killing the enemy. With his newly provided Zaku II C type he was finally given the pinnacle of Zeon's engineering. The first time he he stepped into the simulator for the then prototype generation one Zaku he instantly fell in love the series of machines. Yet even beyond that the Zaku II despite coming around after he had left training was something he had piloted a fair few times in the simulator. The C type though completely blew the old prototype he had been flying a mere day before out of the war. it ran smoothly, precisely-it was a perfectly crafted machine. Equipped as he was with the standard drummed 120mm machine gun and 280mm bazooka, of which contained within his suit's internal ammunition 'backpack' he had two special nuclear shells along with another fifteen conventional shells, four of which could be loaded at a time and fired in succession. With this machine he could operate longer, move faster, and carry more ammunition and weaponry, it was in every method feasible a step up from the generation one Zaku he had been assigned. With this suit he had so far downed another three Salamis, two of which were sunk by follow up attacks with by warships or additional Zaku, the final one he had simply blown apart with well placed rounds from his Bazooka, to add to this impressive achievement he had also destroyed another four Saberfish with his machine gun. With this suit he could truly meld with the machine, use it as a extension of his own being, pressing downward on the pedals and causing his suit to twist violently to avoid a incoming missile swarm he raised up the large tubed bazooka and took aim. Delaz's mobile suit detachment consisted of him and another fifty three pilots out of what had once been a standard sixty mobile suit compliment, Delaz had taken losses the prior day but so far it was only the Federation that was bleeding even as their fleet drew ever closer back towards their colonies at Side One. Their lines were shrinking, they were having to give up ground, reinforcements for Dozle's own battle group were incoming from Side Four and Three, the Federation likely had incoming ships as well but this battle would end long before they arrived.

Pressing down on the firing stud once his targeting computer had plotted the vector he released the volley of semi automatic missile fire, he fired again. The warheads sailed through the sea of debris that the exterior of Side One had become only for one missile strike the debris field impacting what had once been the aft section of a bisected Salamis cruiser, however the second warhead struck true and impacted the fuselage of one of the Saberfish that roamed the battlefield seeking out enemies to destroy, the craft erupted into a field of flame as its own payload and fuel exploded in the vacuum. "thirteen shots left huh." He allowed the bazooka to be lowered from its aiming posture as his Zaku went through the motions of reloading the sealed chamber, sliding shell after shell into it. He was careful to keep the specially marked nuclear munitions separate from the conventional explosives, if he was lucky he'd find a Feddie battle group and be able to let loose with the nukes.

His eyes drifted the bank of monitors that made up the cockpit's controls, his feet working the pedals and triggering the boosters attached to both legs of the Zaku while simultaneously firing up the thruster pack on its back. Zipping across the battlefield, avoiding broken warships and other debris and wreckage proved to be as much of a challenge as actually avoiding enemy fire. The entire battle line was clogged with wreckage from destroyed ships, mobile suits and fighter craft. His suit's radiation detection equipment warned him of the extremely high concentrations of subatomic particles-thankfully however due to his Zaku II's innate protection, he was confident that he'd be able to operate within it for as long needed. That was when he saw it a wave of missiles arching down the battlefield, his camera caught sight of one and his breath froze in place. They were long range, space flight capable missiles, he had little doubt they'd have been launched from Side One itself...had the Federation lured them into a trap? Or were they simply getting desperate now that they were beginning to overcome their defensive lines? Hand raising to toggle the communication grid to warn the Zeon ships of yet another barrage of anti ship missiles he was stopped dead in his tracks by their detonation. Crossing the field in a matter of tens of seconds, the missiles tore into front wave of incoming Zeon warships. That was when he realized just what the Federation had planned, The front lines were now vacant of any sort of Federal presence in sight, any Federal warship or forces had retreated for the most part across this grid, either falling back to Side One or reinforcing another sector. Nuclear detonations erupted across their front lines, lines now absent of the enemy and concentrated with incoming warships. For the next ten minutes, as ships burned like torches in the void of the space around Side One he could only think that it had been their own overaggressive strategy that had resulted in this.

If they had actually secured their positions, covered their advance by forces moving up from all the grids at once they could have prevented the Federation from catching a entire portion of Delaz's fleet within firing range of their nuclear arsenal. As the nuclear detonations faded and the light and clouds of dust and debris began to break up in the aftermath of repeated nuclear explosions he was again going to try to contact the Captain to get new orders, to order their advance...Side One was in sight, despite their losses they for the first time had the Federation outnumbered and outmaneuvered in this battle. "Captain Delaz, This is Lt Kries...sir we have a opening in this grid, I repeat we have a opening, I request diverting forces to this sector to exploit that. The gap won't last more then a half hour at most. I am having my Zaku's grid mapping software data forwarded to you...I will begin direct laser transmission within thirty seconds." Waiting for the laser transmitter aboard his suit to fire up left him with a eye busy to study the scopes, to ensure that no Feddie in a Saberfish got a lucky shot in on his flank while he was busy transmitting battle telemetry data...that was what he spotted his second surprise of the day. It was tens of thousands of miles away and yet even so he could make out the outline through the highest magnification on his primary camera.

Despite the density of the M particles, the radiation, the flashes and eruptions of fire that dominated the battlefield-somehow he managed to actually focus upon the sight.

Eyes widening as he stared downward at the scope only to jerk his head back up towards the camera, his viewfinder straining as he shoved his helmeted face against it-communications from their forward positions should have informed them of any fleet movement from the Federation forces on Earth which meant..."Captain Delaz...I am sorry sir but I will have to retract my prior statement, breaching enemy lines in massed assault will not be possible within fifteen minutes to half an hour. I sight Federal warships incoming from point 4.2 at _L1_...it looks like the Federation forces from Luna II have arrived."

Thousands of silhouettes began to appear on his scope before he turned off the device because of the incessant chiming.

"Well...fuck." He eyed as the the vessels that were skimming off of the other fields of the Moon, they'd been clever and used the Moon in order to slingshot themselves across its point, probably decreasing their journey time by hours. Not to mention ensuring that no one would be aware of their approach until they were directly in position to reinforce their lines. As the communication lines broke down into frantic screams of chaos at the approaching Federal force he eyed his ammunition load out-he still possessed the two nuclear shells.

Who'd have thought that some kid from the slums of Zum City would ever been given the power to split the atom at whim?

* * *

Nine years ago, despite not even being a decade out of the academy it felt like a age had passed since those hectic days. Deikun had died, the people warred in the streets against each other, the Federation, Zabi, Deikun and Ral supporter who had been banded together by the vision of their prophet now destroying each other in his absence. The economic sanction of Side Three had begun, for a little over a year their world deteriorated in that chaos but slowly order began to reemerge. The Munzo Defense Force was rechristened in Deikun's honor being labeled the "Zeon Military Forces". With that renaming sparked a new age in Side Three, rampant militarization began, even as factories closed down across the colonies yet even more opened up across to produce the tools needed for war. Civil firms that had once constructed civilian space vessels were now building the components for warships, Zeonic and Zimmad once civil contractors for colony construction became the producers of the first prototypes of combat oriented mobile suits. The military sector saw the dominant share of business the first year after Deikun as he knew it would for the next year and the next after that. The civil economic sector was doomed on Side Three, his parent's drifted from unemployment to job and back again as corporations that had been rooted into Side Three since its creation decades ago shut their doors never to reopen with the removal of their primary customers in the Federation. That this came at this early stage in his life could be no coincidence he remembered thinking but providence, despite only being less then a year out of primary schooling he knew that if his family were to survive these turbulent times he'd have to ensure it personally. At the very least the salary he garnered could be used to supplement their own income, and with no other future prospects save perhaps in a factory breaking his back as his parents now did. So he'd enlisted, August third of 0070 UC. That day marked his transformation from a simple boy fresh out of the public schooling of Zeon to Soldier of the newly formed Zeonic Military.

The first hellish weeks of the training he could still remember vividly. The Zeon program employed the standards of the former Federation which were tried and tested for centuries back on Earth, some traditions dating back even into the Middle Ages of the Pre Universal Century timeline. In that time he was shown the instruction into basic hand to hand combat, marksmanship and the military discipline that would now rule the rest of his life. He still remembered the first time he had worn the Zeon uniform, the material had been fresh and starched, its green dress pattern never tarnished or laundered. In that single moment he felt complete, it was if wearing that uniform made him apart of something that those outside of the military could never understand. That romantic notion was promptly kicked out of his head violently by the instructors over the following weeks as he underwent the basic physical training to see if he would even be a capable soldier. It also saw him introduced to one of the figures that would come to play a principle role later in his life-then Ensign Dozle Zabi. Despite being two classes of ahead of as the man had enlisted into the armed services of the Republic Munzo before the Principality had even been established. The former Major of the Munzo Defense Force had deferred not to retain rank in the prior incarnation of their nation's military but instead insisted upon the formal procedure of academy graduation much to his father's chagrin. he had become a familiar and large figure in his first years at the Academy. The man was to his knowledge still despite almost a decade having passed-the current record time holder for the "Kill House" a affectionate pet name given to the Academy's urban combat training center's clear room. A darkened maze of building interiors, grimy warehouses and the open vacuum of space. He didn't have fond memories of the place personally, damn thing was a hive of IR strobe mines, programmed radio interference modules and dummy targets that were rigged to explode in a glaze of anti personal solvent that was akin to the Tear Gas of the Middle Ages. His upperclassman however despite his fortune as being one of the children of the Sovereign leader of their nation was not coddled, if anything he seemed to thrive under the pressures and tribulations of the Academy. He was easy to get along with, approachable and seemed to live and breath anything military, anyone would be happy to have him in their deployment, but even then he had known that Dozle wouldn't languish under the command of anyone. Before his first year was completed, before his yearly evaluations were even started Dozle was undergoing officer aspirant programs

Years later when his sister Kycilia had come through the Academy, it was rumored that unlike Dozle she was given preferential treatment and privilege befitting that of royalty rather then any common soldier as Dozle had endured, but that was simple the large man's way. He viewed himself as no different then any of the other cadets in the Academy, if anything he preferred that even ground that Kycilia had avoided like a open vacuum. In the space of a normal four year graduate program, Kycilia had done it in three and half while Dozle stuck to the entire term, including the additional year for officer training. None the less while Dozle and he had grown as close as any could to one of the future rulers of their nation the day came when the giant departed after his class graduation and he was left without the comrade that inspired and drove him. Dozle had been a ideal Zeon soldier, he balked at no order, he excelled in every facet of the program from the martial to the intellectual. Once he was gone however he did not falter, he simply continued through the program. Every day he strove to endure the living hell that the instructors made the Academy, enduring the surprise assaults upon their positions by Academy Staff during routine patrols throughout the dense wooded areas that made up the Academy proving grounds. He fought in every conceivable environment that could be simulated artificially from the scorching inferno of the deserts of Earth to the desolate frozen tundras and Zero G environments of space. During his third semester at the Academy he had done well enough on the aptitude scoring for officership and that only added to his burdens there, now he had juggle the physical and mental labors normal of the academy along with those given to those who sought to **lead** the Zeon military in the next generation. During his fourth semester he had qualified for the position he had sought since joining the Academy, being a mobile suit pilot. To achieve such a lustrous and crucial role required even more commitment, even more studying and training. He excelled in that particular curriculum. None the less his fourth and eventually fifth semester came to a end and the trials and hurdles ceased and he was greeted as a equal of any man or woman of Zeon serving in its defense.

0075 UC September 20th, that dated marked his ascension from Cadet to Soldier. The graduation celebration was attended by both his parents although his father had been crippled by severe muscle atrophy or space sickness by that point and was restricted to a wheelchair. That was the fate he'd avoided, the result of a lifetime of working in zero gravity environments and habitats when off working on Federal ships. At his class graduation it had been Dozle who had delivered the closing speech, the man now a Captain stood before them and declared that they were charged with protecting the weak of their nation, that they were charged with defeating the enemies of Zeon. That they stood to endure whatever perils befell them because they were the Spacenoids chosen to undertake the defense of Zeon, that their lives as individuals now were at the behest and will of the state. That feeling that he had felt the day he had first worn his uniform resurfaced with a vengeance. He was the sword of his nation, the sword of Zeon. The day he had been given his graduation bars indicating he was a Lieutenant Junior Grade officially within the Zeon military. He was to be treated as a officer, not merely at the Academy any longer but in the entirety of Zeon, he was to be respected, and beholden to a chain of superiors leading all the way up to Supreme Commander Gihren himself and his father the Sovereign.

The following years had seen him deployed across the home colonies from his native Zum City to as far away as Quintzem where he had been part of the November 0078 peace keeping mission to quash a radical terrorist element. That had been his first active deployment, his first taste of combat even before the war that would haunt his thoughts for the remainder of his life occurred. Despite being a accredited pilot he was not allowed to take one of their prototype Zaku units into the colony, the fear was that it would inflict too much collateral damage on a home colony. So he was restricted to flying Fighter Craft and Bombers the entire three week campaign. Despite being heralded outside of Zeon as a act of depravity and barbarity the quashing of that revolt had been a mostly bloodless affair, the radical elements were not expected to stand against the pride of Zeon military and they didn't disappoint after a few skirmishes within the first week they had broken rank and fled into the rat maze of the largest city in the colony. The chore of rounding them all up took an additional two week, in the end less then a thousand Spacenoids died be they rebel or civilian and the Zeon military lost less then thirty soldiers although more then a hundred were wounded in action, but the result-the predictable result came. The movement to overthrow the Zabi regime died in its tracks. Even then he felt his lip twitch in annoyance at the very notion of his own people being so stupid, so blind.

Did they not realize they owed everything to the Zabi's? Who had finally said enough was enough after Deikun had died? Who had stood up to the Federation and gained their freedom? So what if Degwin had all but abolished the fucking parliament? Deikun had done it all but in spirit anyway by the point the old man even took the throne. The Zeon Party was the majority seat holder in the Diet, they were a dictatorship for nearing a decade before the name change occurred. Even as a teenager he had seen that writing on the wall, were people so caught up in Deikun's rhetoric they couldn't understand the man was all but a King despite only having the title of Prime Minister? It was Dozle Zabi who rallied their military and threw out the Federation military presence, it was Kycilia who was in charge of their state police that had ensured that any Federation sympathizers were ejected from their newly formed nation. It was Gihren and Degwin who had done the bloody work of crafting a government out of the collapsed wreck that had become the national diet after Deikun had passed.

No one else had stepped forward, no one else had sought the vacant throne, were they to be blamed for seizing what anyone who could seize it would?

* * *

 **Zum City, Side Three**

 **Palace District**

 **December 25th 0078**

 **1200 Hours**

The Zabi's all of them were present atop the dais atop the stage that had been constructed upon the observation platforms overlooking the parading grounds. Degwin was atop his throne, the elder man looked down upon his assembled soldiers, at his side to the left was his eldest living son Gihren, to Gihren's left was his younger brother Dozle, to Dewgin's right Kycilia and Garma respectively. Beneath the royals upon the lower dais were the highest ranking non Zabi officers in the entire military consisting of Admiral Karn and General Schacht, and a variety of other officers of differing rank and position from Commanders to Colonels. The entire royal family was here, staring down upon the army that had been constructed over the prior decade. The Sovereign, Supreme Commander, Vice Admiral, Rear Admiral and Captain. All his superiors, all royalty and the government he had sworn loyalty to, he smiled faintly when he caught Dozle shifting uncomfortable in his chair that's size rivaled Degwin's throne. He hadn't met with Dozle since his promotion to Admiral two years ago but he was happy see that his old Academy friend was well, and happily married now if the national news was accurate. He also noticed that Garma was onlooking the spectacle with clear rapt interest, he had been aware of the youngest Zabi at the Academy but as he was in his graduating class by that point while the young man in question had been entering into his first semester. He recalled seeing him at the firing range and mobile suit testing grounds a handful of times but overall he had no connection to the young Captain, not like he did with his older brother who still was something of a mentor figure to Dieter. His relation to Kycilia was even more minute, he had been assigned in a few advanced placement courses with her but overall he didn't even think they had spoke the entire time they been in the Academy together. As for Degwin and his elder son Gihren, he had seen them at events like this, had seen both men on the television numerous times, heard their speeches and rants through radio broadcast, saw their influence everywhere but never had actually met in person with either. After all that was not his role, he was a soldier, not a commander, not a general or anyone of worthy rank to meet with the leaders of his nation. He was one of the tens of thousands stationed before the palace today, this was a day of pride. Celebration, they had quashed the revolt that one of their further colonies had erupted into. The military revenue was the standard Zabi fare, battalions of soldiers parading the polished marble walkways and streets that dotted the palace of the Zabi monarchy. He himself was dressed in his parade best along with the rest of his detachment in the Mobile Suit Corps, while they had yet to be deployed to the garrison at Solomon they had been touring throughout the homeland. Getting practice in with his Zaku was difficult under this circumstances but never the less he kept his skill sharp. The Federation was out there, building its strength for the day they would try to reclaim the colony that broke free of their grasp. His gloved fingers tightened upon the butt of his ZM-35 assault rifle, the thought of Federation ships dotting the skies of the colony, tanks rolling through its streets unleashing the chaos of his youth once again infuriated him.

Arrays of cameras and speakers dotted the assembly ground, towers of television crews and personal rushed back and forth trying to cover the event for the Zeo Net as best possible, the state sponsored media was present along with several smaller civilian private corps that seemed to be doing everything from recording the royal family as they sat upon their thrones and talked among themselves, to the soldiers parading across the Zum City Palace grounds. They had paid his division little heed but that was alright, they were a mostly untested unit with their own veterans being those who had fought in the rather brief conflict at their far flung colony of Quintzem and battling poorly equipped and ill trained terrorists was little to compare to those who stood within the ranks of the Royal Guard or other distinguished units that were receiving all of the media fanfare.

His detachment was made up of roughly three hundred pilots from the Mobile Suit Corps under Admiral Dozle's battle group was mirrored by dozens of sections of similar number all spread across the vast parade grounds. The flag of Zeon flew aloft in the artificial breeze of the homeland, the sigil of their nation dotted the monuments across the area. This was the heartland of Zeon, the principle resting place of it and its ideals, in Zum City all lived beneath the ideals of contolism, of the Zabi royals. Obviously that wasn't enough for some like those of Quintzem. Today while the rest of the Sides and Earth celebrated Christmas and awaited eagerly the new year to come, Zeon prepared. Tank divisions and Mobile Suits flanked the scores of infantry battalions that surrounded them. Their military presence was undeniable, the rumors of preparation for war with the Federation had only become increasingly more frequent throughout the past year and this month alone had seen a solid increase in military spending and build up, the factories that where his parents had once been employed now operated around the clock producing anything from guns and ammunition to Zaku mobile suits and Musai warships. Even now their fleet grew ever larger, there simply wasn't enough time in the day to make additional weapons, their host now stood as strong as it ever had been, as strong as it ever would be. A generation raised for the war that was to come in mere days.

Throughout the prior year the Federation had only become increasingly more bold, in the aftermath of Side Six declaring its own independence years before the Federation had stepped up its efforts at economic ruination of the people of Side Three. They'd intercept their supply shipments once they left the territory controlled by Side Three, the problem of hijacking their trading and commercial vessels had become so rampant that the Zeon military now was required to escort any private ships to and from their destinations across the Sides. Often times Federation forces would only desist once it became clear that battle would break out if they continued on course, even then a few skirmishes broke out-absent from the eye of the greater solar community, battles between those of Zeon and Federation done beneath the attention of both parties greater population. Of course that wasn't how the Federal controlled media presented it, in broadcasts they declared that these were _defectors_ from the _fascist regime_ of the Zabi's, that they were liberating themselves from that repugnant society. Of course press ganging the crews of privately held vessels did not endear the people of the Federation to Zeon and while political dialogues between the government of Side Three and Federation took place presumably to correct this grievous series of incidents, nothing would ultimately come of it. The Federation wouldn't bow down to any sort of political pressure from Side Three, it would continue its activities of trying to weaken those who sought freedom from it at any cost.

Within the dais Degwin turned to his eldest son and Gihren merely gave a nod in reply clearly it was time for the Zabi heir apparent to make his announcement. Gihren rose from his seat and approached the podium upon the edge of the dais, all of the hushed conversation and discussion immediately cut off with the urging of officers to pay attention to their Supreme Commander. He did his part by elbowing his neighbor lightly in the stomach to cease his chattering with a female engineering technician from the look of her uniform. "My brave and loyal warriors of Zeon, I come to you today not a royal but as a fellow patriot! We stand at the precipice of a new age, a new era that will be built by you! The valiant soldiers of Zeon! The defender of her dreams and hopes!" The roar of cheers that erupted from the assembled soldiers was deafening, the military of Zeon was a beast to be unleashed, they merely needed to be given the order. However the Supreme Commander merely raised his hand and the crowd silenced near instantaneously. "It has been a long road to this point, all of us have struggled to achieve greatness for our nation, a nation that was left abandoned by those who sought to rule us! The accursed Federation denies us the basic rights of human beings! The right to self governance! And when we finally cast them out how did they respond? They tried to starve us out, they called us malcontents and rebels. We who live in harmony with the universe, who do not poison our home planet are looked down upon the wealthy of Earth, they do not acknowledge us as equal! When it is in fact they who are beneath us!" The roaring that erupted at that proclamation made the prior outburst seem quiet. It was thunderous, even Dieter couldn't contain his zeal any longer and let out a cry of "Zeon!" Cries of 'Zabi, 'Sieg Zeon' and 'Hail the Principality' broke out across the varied collection of armed forces present. Be they under Dozle or Kycilia, Marine or Army, Space Attack Force or the Homeland Guard in the reserves, despite the internal rivalries and politics that divided their military with healthy competition and striving to succeed-in this moment they were united.

* * *

 **Zeon Battle Group under Captain Delaz**

 **Gwazine Battleship: Gwadan, stationed thirty seven thousand kilometers out from Side One**

 **January 4th 0079**

 **0500 Hours**

"All ships provide suppressing fire, allow our mobile suits to reach the enemy lines! Full bombardment!" The order aboard the ship intercom resounded, the stern and disciplined voice of the chief gunnery officer rang out across the hangar. They were entering into effective firing range for their primary weapons then, the flagship would move into support the fleet, while the Gwadan possessed considerable firepower easily outclassing any three Musai in the entire navy in terms of effective combat utility it wasn't invulnerable none the less it was slightly inspiring to hear. After all if the ship was moving up, it was at the request of the Captain, or more likely at the request of the only notable superior to Delaz here at Side One-Dozle.

However the message of the gunnery officer was soon replaced in his mind when the Captain himself's voice began emanating from the speakers. "Soldiers of Zeon! Today we fight for our homeland! Show no mercy to these cretins who dare stand in our way! We will prove the legacy of Deikun true today through nuclear fire!" The short but inspiration speech cut off and everyone resumed working, it was not due to lack of impact but the fact they were soon to be heading into battle once again that this announcement was not met with resounding and thunderous cheers surely.

The lead mechanic broke the monotony of the hangar with his sudden barking announcements.

"All mobile suit teams, will be launched in ten minutes, I repeat mobile suit teams will launch in ten minutes."

"Last minute checks and preparations!" The lead technician barked as he drifted from his work station on the upper gantry of the massively large hangar bay. "Disconnect suits from their charging lines, prep the reactors for immediate start up, begin last minute checks on the fuel lines!" The man was a professional if nothing else Dieter thought as he watched the spectacle before his eyes drifted to his assigned Zaku unit. Designation 109, the machine stood proud in the hangar, its numeric sigil bearing the shine of fresh paint and grease.

Kicking off of the deck and floating towards the platform overlooking his own assigned Zaku he noted a single technician that was going over the assigned last minute prep work before the mobile suits were launched, this would be a good place to lodge his request. He did had done so before on the Wrath but they didn't have access to half the assigned weaponry of the Gwadan, Delaz clearly let his men hurt for nothing when it came to equipping them as lethally as possible.

It was a good tactic for a captain to be sure.

"I request to have my Zaku outfitted with type 98 Bazooka rounds." It was a simple enough request to make of a technician who just happened to preforming maintenance on his newly assigned mobile suit. The technician turned to him with a practiced and easy motion of merely swinging while hanging upon the rigging of his mobile suit, he glanced at him with a odd look in his eye-a cross between concern and outright confusion at the oddity of such a request, surely he wasn't the only Zaku pilot requesting nuclear ammunition.

However that casual posture immediately evaporated once he noted that upon his normal suit was the ranking insignia of a full lieutenant and immediately kicked off to the deck, descending ten meters in but a handful seconds and immediately shifted into a formal stance of a subordinate. Even as he lowered himself down to the deck floor, he met his look blankly even at his confusion, whatever issue this man had with that idea surely would come to bear shortly so there was no need to actively try to antagonize the man who was looking after his own mobile suit.

"Sir those are nuclear shells...are you sure we were given authorization to use NBC weaponry?" The mechanic questioned as he stood at attention matching his gaze evenly.

"Captain Delaz has them aboard his ship, they were used by pilots yesterday. Certainly we were given authorization to use them, besides even if we weren't the Federation is using them. We couldn't deny ourselves the advantage even if we had agreed to such a restriction."

"This close to a colony? I mean, I..." He merely shook his head at the shocked line of questioning-there was little he could do to reassure the man other then tell him the truth. The truth that Zeon was overall indifferent to the killing at least in the case of one colony so far. Colony 13 was case and point, they'd kill anyone who stood against them. Anyone who was in the vicinity of those who stood against them. _'What did those people think? Building those bases and faculties in colonies?'_ They were viable targets, the loss of life was...unfortunate but military priorities had to take precedence. Besides would the people of Side One or Two or Four weep for those who died to secure their freedom? He doubted it.

"If they are destroyed so be it, I don't care-those people who lived under the collar of the Federation are no Spacenoids, they are dogs."How had he come to say that? Merely a day after his own crisis of conscience? How had he come to say that after his own brush with the prospect of killing civilians in mass with merely the flip of a switch? Was it simply because he was so introverted that the prospect of killing people in combat plagued him naught? If that was the case then why would killing people after all bother him? ' _I am definitely going to burn in hell._ ' That thought brought the corner of his lip upward into a small smile.

How many people had he killed in combat now? How many soldiers of the Federation? Hundreds at the very least, why would those in Colony 13 be any different? A mere number, when he had drifted to sleep in the bunk assigned to him aboard the flagship, he had worried about nightmares, terrors conjured from his subconscious from the trauma of battle but nothing had surfaced. He slept as easily as he did back at home, if anything he slept better then his initial days aboard the Zeal coming into the war, he no longer had any doubts or nervous anticipation. He only had his duty, his resolve and his strength. It was enlightening and startling, he didn't consider himself some unfeeling monster, a psychological train wreck of a person...and yet he did things, things that society at large would label horrible and felt nothing at the thought of it.

Is this what his parents had warned him about? It was so easy to forgo any notion of humanity, only a day at war and he was seemingly alright with the concepts that had plagued philosophers and scholars throughout human history-for centuries back in the Middle Ages they had proposed thesis after thesis trying to come to terms with the monstrous acts that humans would commit against other humans. Slavery, _Genocide_ , _Terrorism_ , causing untold amounts of _Extinctions_ of other species living upon the Earth. Perhaps if the Federation had treated their homeland with proper respect, recognized their sovereignty...this wouldn't be needed. That had not happened, and it mandated a response.

The Federation only understood one thing: force. They'd force their position to them, they'd conquer space and once the Feddies retreated to Earth they could lick their wounds and come to the bargaining table, the Federation would be forced to acknowledge their position then.

"We are targeting civilian colones?! Don't tell me at Side Two you..."

He merely continued to stare at the man, his posture, his image, his very being in that instance seemed aloof, indifferent. This man would get no answers of reassurance from him, he could only do his duty. As a soldier of Zeon the luxury of morality was something none of them could afford. Even so he held out hope that his brother in arms here would see reason, would do as he was told and not raise any further fuss, so far no lines had been crossed the man had merely raised legitimate questions of if they had been issued authorization. Even so...he knew that it wouldn't end here, given the man actually raised a commotion about the usage of nuclear arms being used, clearly he was the type to hold his ground.

"Fucking hell...you don't care do you? You don't care if you kill kids or old people, Feddies or no people don't deserve just to fucking disappear in a blast of radiation and heat!"

"Don't you dare lecture me!" He growled out at the mechanic. "Load the nuclear shells into my Zaku or I'll have you charged with insubordination!"

"...No sir I cannot do that sir."

Eyes widening in pure unadulterated disbelief he bellowed out a cry of outright fury as he flung his gloved fist forward into the other man's face shattering the bones of his nose beneath his thick fingers and knuckles. The momentum of the punch launching the man off his feet from the deck and leaving him pressed against the wall. "Traitor!" He spat as he turned his back to the fallen mechanic who was floating limply in the hangar bay, He scanned the room before flagging down another technician. Dressed in the familiar stained coveralls of the mechanic corps of the Zeon military, he stood nondescript in the hangar none the less he'd entrust his orders to him. "You! Load my Zaku with nuclear 98 shells, and get some of the MP's down here to throw that fucker in the brig."

The technician only had to glance at the other soldier who still floated noodle like in the zero g of the hangar, blood forming into thickened globs as it flowed out of his twisted nostrils to come to grips with the situation. He stood straight, saluted before agreeing without any noticeable hesitation. "Sir. Yes sir!"

* * *

 **Zeon Battle Group under Captain Delaz**

 **MS-06C Zaku II, battlefields of Side One, assigned grid position 98.17**

 **January 4th 0079**

 **1100 Hours**

Pulling his feet back from the petals he allowed a moment for him to survey the carnage before him, the twisted metallic hulks of warships that were cooling in the darkness of space. They had breached enemy lines, finally after several hours of continued unrelenting battle, the Federation forces had been overwhelmed with a mass nuclear assault that simply destroyed their forces. "Enemy lines in grid-98 have fallen Captain Delaz-we are on schedule." He killed the transmission as he allowed his fingers to drift to the straps of of his helmet before undoing its internal seal and allowing it to float free of his head. The battle group from Luna II had been overwhelming in its sheer makeup, thousands of vessels of all make and designation from battleships and carriers to cruisers. This was the true naval might that the Federation had been boasting of for a decade, it was power that they thought the people of Side Three could never compete with.

They were wrong.

The drifting wreckage dotted hundreds of kilometers before him, despite only fighting in a field that measured roughly two hundred square kilometers, it was a impressive display of destruction. Hulks of Musai cruisers, Columbus carriers, Public assault boats, Magellan battleships, Salamis cruisers and more vessels of makes and displacements that he couldn't pick from memory decorated the space-along with the charred remains of their crews floating in the vacuum, smoke and flame trailed from the destroyed vessels. Even now explosions still occasionally resounded off of one of the ships, indicating that munitions within had detonated or over pressurized hulls had breached outward, it was a sea of destruction. It was a beautiful thing to him, in that instance he truly understood what it was to be a soldier. The Federation was bested in earnest, the cost had been high, higher then he'd ever dreamed it would be, who knew how many thousands of the Principality had fallen here, the losses from Side Two were utterly dwarfed in comparison even so...The Federal fleet was broken, Side One was vulnerable to their assault. They had won, and that feeling of victory resounded within his breast, it was the greatest feeling he had ever known, he felt complete-he felt in that instance what the Zabi's had been speaking for a decade was true.

They were the chosen, they were the inheritors of the Earth and its people, they were the superior race of Zeon.

His eyes drifted across the other lines, it was more or less the same story-the Federation forces were still trying to put up a ultimate futile struggle, yet more nuclear explosions bloomed into existence consuming the vacuum of space in blinding light only for it to fade into darkness once again. They were breaking through, in another hour, perhaps two they'd be at Side One and this war would be all but over-they would have the grand victory promised to them by Dozle Zabi. That was when he noticed, enhancing the image and taking a still with his primary camera his lip curled upward-off in the distance perhaps a few thousand meters he saw the familiar color scheme of the Commander of the Space Attack Force himself, the Royal Zaku was fairly well known in known in the Mobile Suit Corps due to its distinctive color pattern, and the gold engravings that adorned it. It was then that he noticed that the suit wasn't engaging the enemy it was merely overlooking the carnage that the battlefield had become.

Kicking up his thrusters, his feet upon the pedals he forced as much power into the boosters as he felt comfortable which approached the suit, he opened communications only to find the channel already in use and a frantic heated debate ongoing over it. "We cannot pull back! We cannot let these losses be for nothing!" Whatever reply that came from the other end only seemed to infuriate the Admiral even further as he heard the massive man grind his teeth together before he relented. "Very well, we will resume the offensive tomorrow." He had never heard the Admiral so irritated, so infuriated before but it struck him then and there what his words had meant. It was then however that his own presence on the field mere hundreds of yards away, hovering in place became apparent to the Admiral. "Zaku unit 109 identify." The order was sharp and all but barked, but clearly the Admiral was having a bad day so he relented immediately not mention...he respected Dozle, he was one of the few superiors he had ever encountered who was truly put everything into being a soldier, he wasn't some political crony who was handed a appointment, he lead men because he was born to do it.

"Lieutenant Kries Admiral and I must say it is good to see you again." He stated respectively as he brought his Zaku's own right arm up in a impromptu salute its massive fingers stopping just meters before the main camera in a showing of the absolute command he had over his newly assigned suit.

"Kries...Kries...Dieter! Hah! It has been far too long since the Academy." The man seemed to laugh out only for a moment as the situation once again was brought up, the wreckage of mobile suits, fighter craft and ships drifted around them, Side One like Side Two before it had become a mass grave of Zeon. How many of his own classmates from the Academy had died here today? How many men did Dozle consider that he failed today? "I was given the task to lead these men...how many thousands died here believing in my ability to command?" The Admiral seemed to drift out into a line of melancholic thought-as the Admiral hadn't requested his input he wouldn't give it but...He didn't believe Dozle had failed the soldiers of Zeon here.

If anything him being here inspired them to fight all the harder, but because he hadn't been asked to speak he wouldn't. It wasn't his place as a soldier.

* * *

 **AN: Well here we are at the conclusion of chapter four-I do hope you all enjoyed it and will consider favoriting, following and reviewing alright? Not to stress that point, but it does make me feel good at the very least...anyway see you all next time for the next installment into The 'Solider of Zeon' and what Dieter gets up into in the aftermath of the initial victory at Side One. I won't lie, it will likely involve the usage of mobile suits in efforts to kill Feddies :P**

 **Till next time!**

 **-Reborn Akatsuki**


	5. Side One-Third Day

**AN: Well for chapter five we have more backstory and current events, more will be learned about Dieter's time at the academy, his interactions and alike with Dozle and it will all be leading up Operation British. I do hope you all are enjoying the story so far, and if you are please inform me in the form of a review, favorite or follow. Believe me, seeing this story become popular will only increase the rate at which I upload to the site-after all despite its apparent only middling popularity at present I have been fairly regular with updates. That will continue but I will say that if more people become interested, the chapters will grow in length and frequency, anyway I don't want this to be a multiple paragraph AN so I will wrap it up here.**

 **There is not much more to say anyway other then I hope you all enjoy chapter five.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam, it is owned by** **Bandai and Yoshiyuki Tomino, however any original characters and devices featured into this narrative are strictly my own intellectual property.**

* * *

 **Zeon Battle Group under Captain Delaz**

 **Gwazine Battleship: Gwadan, Mess Hall**

 **January 5th 0079**

 **0800 Hours**

Conversation while eating was pretty common place in his life now, he had ate while talking back during training, he had ate while listening during deployments and musters. He could multitask he supposed if it came down to it, but none the less listening to the new bloods quiver in fear of the Federation's numbers was doing little to ease his own mood and thoughts. His eyes met that of one of the freshly graduated recruits and the younger man seemed to stall mid sentence at his gaze. He would press his own thoughts here and now, and hopefully it would either give the squirt something to think about or at the very least shut him and his friends up for a minutes.

He dug into his flight suit retrieving the familiar pack of cigarettes and lighter before placing one between his teeth and lighting it with the ancient flint lighter in practiced motion. _'No sense in even trying to eat until this is settled.'_

"You think yesterday was bad? Wait until the Federation reinforcements arrive, make no mistake we haven't even seen a fraction of their capabilities yet...at best we have given them a bruise to think about." He spoke grimly, truth be told he had no idea the total make up of the Federation navy, but it didn't seem to make how of their ships were destroyed, how many of their soldiers were lost-they simply kept coming to die in the grinder. He knew going into this war that, their opponents would outnumber them severely but never to this extent, the fronts at Side Two and Four had been reopened in the space of hours, he didn't know where the Federation forces were coming from but the horde seemed never ending.

Which meant of course that the Federation forces here at Side One would likely be reinforced, even though merely yesterday Delaz's mobile suit detachment alone had scored a impressive and unbelievable 79 total kills in the grand scheme that meant nothing, that fleet had been made up of thousands of vessels. Hundreds had gotten through and reinforced their lines, and the battle continued. Not to mention bringing fresh supplies and munitions to bolster the enemy resistance which was nearly as bad as additional forces as far as he was concerned. He had himself sunk his fourth, fifth and sixth Salamis merely in its opening volleys, and that number was soon replaced by his seventh, eighth, ninth, tenth, eleventh and twelfth. He wondered when he'd stop keeping track, his data recorder aboard the suit would likely keep up with the number better then he would if it grew ridiculous. "But we have them on the edge-I can feel it...if we keep pressing they will eventually be worn down, we just have to hope that they wear down before we drown in numbers. We had the advantage yesterday, we opened multiple fronts that they had to respond to in mass to repel us." He drew another thick drag from his cigarette before expelling the smoke from his lungs in a practiced motion.

"You sure?" The recruit questioned him as he raised his spoon back into the mishmash of military fine dining.

"No." He replied as he lowered his cigarette from his mouth in thought. He wasn't, it was just conjecture on his part. He wasn't a member of the admiralty, he didn't have access to the top secret reports and plans that Gihren Zabi and his ministry did but he could guess.

The kid was now silenced, and rightfully so, so at the very least it seemed he could finish his own meal in peace its just...he no longer felt like eating.

"Ultimately whatever the higher ups decide on, we will do as ordered just because that is our role. We are the sword, they are the hand that wield us after all. Its our duty as soldiers to follow the orders we are given but...some of us don't view it like that, some soldiers allow morality, and ethics impact their duties. Do they not remember what the Academy said about such things I wonder?" The Academy had instilled the discipline that ruled him now, it was supposed to do that. He was supposed to become a blank slate usable only by his superiors, his own conscience and morals had no place when it came to following his orders or completing a mission. _'I'd be lying though if I said I didn't understand it though...'_ Truth was, perhaps he was just the one so desperate to finally find purpose in his otherwise mundane and rudimentary life that he had just leaped at the opportunity to have it. Maybe he was just broken, he had read his father's bible years ago-it spoke of concepts of God, faith and doing good works. Perhaps had he applied those lessons to his own life, things could have been different but he was his own person-he had power, authority and respect because of his actions and this war that had only just begun.

Perhaps the prospect of killing meant nothing to him because living mattered so utterly to him-he couldn't hesitate. Even the memories of Colony 13 never left him, he knew he'd remember that scene for the rest of his life. The puddles of gore and gristle that had once been people soaking the streets, a entire city of millions dying before him while he alone survived. Surely he'd be a monster if he felt nothing at that? Yet he didn't regret it, undoubtedly it was a act of pure evil...yet he couldn't pass the blame along any further then himself. It would be convenient to blame Gihren or Kycilia or perhaps even Delaz and Dozle as the instigators of that act of mass death but it wouldn't absolve him of his own sins. He had pulled the trigger, just as he had been taught.

* * *

 **Zeon Military Academy, Zum** **City, Side Three**

 **August 18th 0070**

 **Firing range 17-Desert**

 **0800 Hours**

It was scorching, despite the the close proximity to Zum City itself, despite the colony being climate controlled and maintained to the highest levels of both human and artificial precision, this was a marvel of engineering, it felt like any description of the deserts that were so common in earth, the sweltering dry heat, the thin wisp like air, the sand beneath his boots...it felt as real to him as anything he'd ever experienced before, sweat dripped down his brow but he resisted the urge to wipe it away, even as it continued to bead upon his forehead. He'd stand at attention until ordered otherwise, he felt a slight tremor convulse through his leg-he'd only been standing in this environment for roughly twenty standard minutes he was already starting to feel faint.

 _'How do those fucking earth monkeys stand this?'_

Before them stood Sargent Major Mira Burns-one of the many instructors at the academy, she stood before them in that capacity today. Her scarred and angular features attested to a lifetime of battle, within her regular battle dress were also three separate service ribbons-two of which were actual combat decorations. Her olive twinged skin and darkened almost raven black hair gave hint to her background as one of the descendants of the European States that had sent their less fortunate populations into space generations ago. Yet that wasn't her most striking feature it was the manner she held herself with-confident, self assured. It was the posture and body language and glassy black eyes attested to a soldier who had seen combat, who had fought and killed. _'Did she fight in the liberation war?'_ This was a woman that despite her small stature and frame reeked of being a predator-even his virgin nose could smell the blood that soaked her boots.

And she was here today to ensure the next generation became just as able in the field of taking life.

Her eyes seemed to dart across from one Cadet to another, apparently looking for something she could either critique or compliment them on, never the less she hadn't said a word since they'd been ordered to hike out to the firing range a half hour before. He didn't even know what her voice sounded like, when they had been instructed to go out here by her adjutant, she hadn't even joined them on the march out-she'd already been here. Finally apparently satisfied she reached into her BDU's breast pocket and retrieved a small cylinder-he had never seen anything like it before, but when she pulled down her uniform's collar he understood the use. His eyes automatically glanced downward-it was to avoid losing his lunch to the sight of what greeted his eyes, across the line other cadets also reacted similarly. Across much of her throat and lower jaw was pocked and scarred over, lines and fractures in the grayish dead skin itself made it almost grid like from surgical scars and impact trauma. It looked to his fairly uneducated eye the result of either a point blank gunshot injury or severe shrapnel impacts but that was merely his guess.

Placing the device against what appeared to be some sort of metal emitter attached to the bare skin of her throat, she spoke and it came out cold, mechanical and utterly artificial.

"This is the ZM08, the standard side arm for all Zeon military forces." She said patting her holstered sidearm with an almost tender affection as one would give to a pet or child. "it contains eight 9x19 cartridges in a box magazine, for all intents and purposes though...this is sign of a deteriorating situation. If you have to draw this weapon, then the enemy is close enough to warrant it. Later in the training you will be taught basic rifle marksmanship but first I am going to teach you how to shoot competently with this." She withdrew her own side arm instead of drawing it normally right hand which was currently occupied holding her voice machine. She pulled it confidently out with her left. _'She's ambidextrous?'_ the black metal finish of the barrel gleamed in the fake sunlight of the afternoon, pulling back on the hammer in a practiced almost gentle motion-the sound of the gun cocking was the loudest noise he had ever heard in his life, that single noise represented the end of his previous life.

"It's reliable, powerful and relatively easy to use. You will be shown how to hold it properly, how to fire, clean and maintain this weapon. But never forget if the day dawns when you need to draw this weapon, it means you have failed-the enemy should never be allowed to get close enough to warrant drawing this." The oddest thing seemed to happen then, her lips curved upwards into a rueful if almost wistful looking smile.

"Cadets-draw side arms." The scramble of dozens of men and women frantically unholstering their weapons was all that could be heard for a moment, the thickened metal of the handle fit squarely into his palm. This was the first time he had held a weapon since being issued his side arm upon entry weeks before when his class had arrived at the Academy, it felt oddly heavy despite its small appearance. He held it downward pointed at the ground away from his own body, as he had been instructed in those early gun safety courses that were mandatory for all soldiers of Zeon, it wouldn't do to accidentally blow his own foot off in his first day of combat orientated training.

"Alright you now have a loaded weapon in hand, approach the firing range."

Walking in tandem with his cohort of fellow cadets in line to the firing range which was basically just a assembly of sandbags strewn out across a field, with a line of targets resting downward from the range. There were dozens of makeshift bunkers, each one would comfortably fit at least three people but for this class of twenty four, there was enough for every individual cadet to actually take their own. He merely picked one at random and walked into it, his booted feet digging into the loose sand and grit of the simulated terrain.

"Every soldier of Zeon must be able to defend themselves, I don't care if you were pegged to be a cook or a mechanic, whether you will be in the support or logistical corps or in infantry-sometimes situations will go awry and enemies may attempt to break in positions where you are stationed, you do Zeon no service if you die wastefully." Her artificial voice carried across the silenced cadets as they assumed positions within the earthen bunkers of sandbags and trenches.

"Raise arms." He complied to the command and raised the handgun upward, barrel pointed down the range at the nearest target. His shoulders felt taut, his palms sweating into the grip-eyes narrowing he awaited the command to fire only for it not to come. Instead he felt rather then heard the movement of the instructor as she was suddenly standing at his side only a few feet away, her eyes locked at him. He however veered back on to his task, he wouldn't be intimidated-he had survived the basic physical fitness requirements for this training. He wouldn't wash out, not here and now when he was only starting on this path.

"Cadet Kries." She called out as she a moment later as she raised her own handgun upward, her posture. Her stance, from the placement of her hands to the way her feet were dug in to balance her. In that instance she looked like a model soldier, that despite all the grit and wear that was evident on her body she was destined to be a soldier. "Look at how I do it." Why he was getting special one on one instruction while the others in his course awaited the order to fire he didn't know, was he just the obvious worst in their grouping? Despite his background he'd never had much experience with guns, truth be told today would be the first he'd ever fired one in his life.

"Don't put your finger over the trigger, have it rest off to the front of the firing ring." His finger absently slipped out of the trigger ring following the command, but his grip on the gun only tightened. He had to succeed here, if he failed then he wouldn't be able to help his family. His father couldn't work in the munitions plant forever, his body was already starting to go from all the exposure to zero g off the colony proper. "Focus on the of muscles in your fingers and hand, not your shoulders." He tried to forgo concentrating on any other muscles save his own hands but it was a difficult task, from manual labor to the basic fitness training that he had endured merely to make it this far...none of it had been centered around solely focusing on control of the hands. "Focus through the rear sight into the front." His eye found the notch along the barrel and placed it through the window of the other notch. "Good." The instructor seemed to almost purr through her artificial voice machine as she took a step closer, now only inches separating them. "Stretch out your right arm while aiming." He forced the handgun further away from himself, his posture now straining his back and upper shoulder, the gun shook gently within his palm but it seemed the instructor knew exactly how to remedy that. "Stabilize the firing position by pulling back with your left." His left arm pulled outward from his body angled downward, his right hand ceased its shaking. "Remember-focus on maintaining grip within your hands, don't tense your shoulders...don't jerk the trigger, pull it gently."

She didn't look all that much older then him, beneath the scars and rigors of battle what was she? In her early to mid twenties? He supposed it didn't matter, even if she was only a handful of years older then him it was obvious that despite his rather harsh upbringing she had experienced something he had yet to. Battle, he didn't know her past but he knew the look of a soldier, she had seen combat and she had killed. Perhaps she was the last gasp of a dying breed, the mobile suit likely heralded the end of the age of infantry, while no doubt conventional forces and soldiers would be required for more mundane tasks, the minute he had saw the slides of the proposed Zeonic initiative to re-purpose mobile suits for combat being broadcast across the Zeo Net he had known then-it was the arbiter of change.

Pilots would dictate the war that was to come. It would take years he knew for that technology to catch up to his ambition, but he had time. His training wouldn't end for another four years and even then he likely would remain even longer if he was pegged to be a officer. Yes he had time, he would become a soldier of Zeon, he would lead the fight to free his people and he pilot one of those suits into battle.

He knew it, he felt it within himself-but that was the future. Today he would learn how to shoot a gun.

"Shoot." He pulled the trigger, his shot struck the assigned target to the left, barely chipping it-squinting his eyes he tried to refocus the sights on the small human sized target that was made to imitate a crouching enemy. He let out a held breath, letting the instructor's words try to guide his body as best they were able, his stance looked like that of a professional soldier but other then that it was obvious he had never even held a gun before.

"Again." His eyes narrowed down the sight again as his finger pressed downward upon the trigger. The bullet struck the target flat, but he wouldn't be allowed to rest upon his would be laurels.

"Again." He fired once again, his bullet again impacting the target, his back was beginning to ache from the strain and heat but he'd endure it. This was only the first real test, if he was to prove himself here and now he'd have to pass all of this basic physical testing. To achieve his ambitions of being a pilot, first he'd need to become a soldier.

"Again." For the third time his round found the target, this time smacking straight through the small crouching target's center mass. The Sargent Major gave a brief nod of approval, her scarred and torn neck and throat seemingly bobbing along with the motion. "Adequate, but this is only at fifty yards. Once you can do that successively at a hundred in the space of thirty seconds...then you might actually prove to be worthy of attention." With her words of wisdom spoken she stepped out of the trenched bunker and as she walked out of his line of sight he was left only with a single thought.

 _'Just who the hell had this woman been back in the days of the war with the Federation after Deikun had died?'_

He heard her instructing the class as she walked among the cadets, observing and correcting as she went along.

"Do not think, do not feel, do not hesitate. The enemy will not, and if you do hesitate, if you do freeze...you will die."

* * *

 **Zeon Command Battle Group, Side One**

 **Gwazine class battleship: Gwarib, Personal Cabin of Vice Admiral Dozle Zabi**

 **January 5th 0079**

 **1000 Hours**

Entering into the Admiral's private quarters aboard his flagship brought him back to the past, memories of spending hours within Dozle's company back at the Academy rushed back to him. They had been fairly good friends at the Academy but after graduation both had parted, Dozle went on to continually rise further and further up in Zeon's military before becoming a Vice Admiral and he remained at the Academy and eventually became a pilot. Theirs was a friendship that was a oddity he supposed, he was not nobility, he was not affluent and yet he stood in the good graces of one of the most powerful men in the homeland.

"You came, still a stickler for punctuality then? Good." Dozle's voice rounded off as the larger man rose from the desk he had apparently been going over reports on as he turned at the sound of the door sliding open automatically before he resumed working at the computer station.

"Yes sir." He said in reply to his fellow academy graduate as he slid into the room before coming to stand at attention as the Admiral finished up his work. Minutes passed in silence before Dozle completely finished what must have been a hellish amount of paper work assigned to him as the fleet commander of this operation. Once he was finished however Dozle was nothing but frank.

"You have questions, I can tell and we are nothing if not old comrades so I will allow you to ask them, just remember that I am beholden to a chain of command myself and may not be able to answer every question." He didn't expect much more then that, truthfully he didn't know what to expect when Dozle had requested his presence at all.

None the less he did have questions and several were pressing.

"Is it true we are targeting the colonies themselves now in earnest? Not just Federal battle groups and positions?" The rumors of entire colonies at Side Four being obliterated inside of nuclear hazes had begun circulating across the battle group, despite the information blackout rumors and hearsay still broke through and despite the discipline of the men of Zeon even they couldn't suppress their curiosity apparently. What had likely started out as a tightly kept secret soon became common rumor among the fleet even those stationed tens of millions of kilometers away.

"Yes, it will likely become common knowledge anyway soon enough, the rumor mill has already caught wind of it even here at Side One." Dozle confirmed it then, the Zeon military was targeting colonies, Side 13 hadn't been the end of it then, just the start. That however merely raised another question-why Colony 13?

"So why was Colony 13 hit first anyway if the mass destruction of Federal colonies is just now getting underway?" He had no real reservation in asking that difficult question, but he knew from the grimace that came to Dozle's face it was something the larger man would rather not speak of.

"Because they may have uncovered some secrets that would be better off left buried in the history of this war..." His reply left him baffled and he could only respond in one way.

"What?"

"This can never go past us, I will tell you because you did it-you did your duty regardless of what it meant to the people of Zeon or the Federation. You deserve to know the truth of the matter if for nothing else then that. But this can never leave this room, understood?" The pledge of secrecy seemed out of place for Dozle but never the less he would honor it, military secrets after all were critical to success and he wouldn't be the loose set of lips that tipped the Federation off to anything that could aid their cause.

"Yes sir..." There was nothing more he could say.

"During the mock up drills for the planned assaults on the Federal Sides weeks ago, critical battle data may have been compromised and intercepted by Side Two. We traced the leak back to one of the further colonies of Side Two. Although we had to rush to add it into the initial battle plan but there you have it. The ' _why_ ' of it. Because they may have intercepted or perhaps even been given critical information regarding our invasion. If they had...you understand what would have occurred right? Rather then having the element of surprise on our side...our forces would have launched into a ambush, an enemy that was awaiting them in the wings." It suddenly made sense, why a single colony out of the entirety Side Two was marked for destruction, something that had plagued in the days since, was made clear. He had no pangs of conscience about the deed, Delaz was right-their war may be legitimate but it was justified and needed.

The people of Side Two had chosen their bed and now had to lay within it as they warred with the Federation, it was a grim thought but there was nothing else he could offer them, at the very least this war could hopefully end soon before every colony cluster in the entire Earth Sphere was decimated beyond repair and the human race's population with it. Supreme Commander Gihren had been speaking for years for how their race had expanding too recklessly, explosively beyond their means and controls, and perhaps he'd even view it as a positive but despite his own lack of moral reservation he couldn't help but find that sort of pragmatic view of the entire situation somewhat off putting.

Gihren was a genius, both politically and apparently militarily if their recent successes in this war were anything to go by, but it was obvious that human life mattered utterly little to him, perhaps that extended only to Zeon's enemies but even so. Despite his own lack of empathy he couldn't help but fear for the day when Side Three itself found itself wanting in its would be dictator's eye-never the less he was sworn to Gihren and would act in accordance with his wishes. After all if they won this war quickly enough, no doubt the Zabi's would be too mired in the political fallout of this war to concern themselves with internal affairs for a good long while, despite his devotion, despite his loyalty, his honor, his duty he was no fool. Gihren could and would put the people of Side Three to the torch if given cause, he had demonstrated that in the aftermath of Deikun's death and again in the rebellion just the prior year...he could only hope that there wouldn't be those foolish enough to challenge him once this war ended.

 _'Who would even have the clout to do that? Garma's still too young, Dozle's too indifferent and Kycilia is too unpopular.'_

So perhaps his self imposed musings were mere speculation, after all Gihren was for all intents and purposes the sole true power in Side Three now with the entire military of their nation beneath him and at his beck and command at whim. There wouldn't be a overnight challenge to the man who had truly ruled Side Three now for years, even his own father now lacked the authority to challenge him outright.

"If they had been given data regarding our planned assault why wasn't the Federation prepared for it initially? Side Two was hardly protected beyond its standard allotted Federal defense fleet." That was the real question, if the Federation hadn't responded it was either because they could not or simply did not view Zeon as a proper threat until it was far too late.

"I don't know, the data was heavily encrypted. We were using our standard military ciphers so perhaps they never got around to cracking it...and never will now." That explanation made sense, he lacked any real knowledge of the field of cryptography but even so he'd assume that Zeon battle plans would indeed be fairly well protected from any outside access, it would make sense that it would take weeks if not months to break through their encryption.

"Mmm."

"Delaz didn't tell you any of this?" Dozle seemed honestly surprised by that.

"No." Again he told the truth, Delaz had never given away any of the reasoning behind the decision to actively purge the colony.

"Good man, even if he is a bit of a stooge. Gihren is lucky to have at least one man who can stand by his side in the bullshit of this war." Dozle sounded oddly content with that thought, despite the rather public knowledge that the Zabi family was plagued with internal and fierce rivalry between the eldest siblings, clearly Dozle bore Gihren no ill will for having his own cadre of personal confidants. Still it was obvious that Dozle held no misgivings about his elder brother's subordinate from the label of ' _stooge_ ' to the very way in which the name _Delaz_ exited his mouth. It was clear the captain and vice admiral despite their shared branch of military service did not see eye to eye but here in the field both men had to tolerate each other and work in concert.

After all they were both soldiers of Zeon.

* * *

 **Zeon Military Academy, Zum City, Side Three**

 **Recruit Barracks, dormitory 17**

 **January 8th 0071**

 **2300 Hours**

The assigned dorm room to Dozle Zabi did not indicate that the man was one of the son's of Side Three's newly appointed Sovereign Degwin Zabi but instead mirrored the standard fare of all the dorm faculties given to senior year cadets. The room was well lit but offered no real luxury, it had the same style of military cot his own possessed, it was a single cubicle domicile that didn't even possess its own bathroom. None the less there were personal effects distributed about the room, although all fit military standard and wouldn't be considered contraband, from the single rose decorating a large fiberglass pot upon the room's single desk to a picture of Dozle with the rest of his family, including the now deceased Sasro Zabi.

From the age of the photo in question it was clear it was taken shortly after the birth of Garma Zabi, as it included the infant but not his mother who had if the national news reported correctly-died in child birth bringing the youngest Zabi into Side Three. Truthfully though he didn't expect anything different from Dozle, in the months he had known the cadet he had long ago come to the conclusion that the man was a born soldier and nothing else. He excelled in this arena and was rightfully proud of it. Taking his place at the proffered chair he leaned back into the metal for a moment before the larger man sat down as well.

The faint whiff of the whiskey both had been quaffing down at the mess alongside the other exhausted recruits hung in the air as the larger man shifted into the almost cartoonishly small chair. Digging into his sweat stained uniform and retrieving a crumpled and worn pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket, he offered the packet to the older cadet only for him to shake his head in dismissal. Lighting his own cigarette seemed to prompt Dozle to break from his trance as he eyed the smaller cadet.

"You going to ask?" The older man questioned gingerly as his large and callused fingers rapped absently upon the wooden paneling of his desk.

"About?" He questioned in curiosity, what was Dozle inquiring about? What was he supposed to ask?

"My former rank. You'd hardly be the first you know Kries." It made sense he supposed and he had privately wondered just that same thing a few times but ultimately put it off as irrelevant, whatever reasoning Dozle had was his own.

He let out a amused snort through his angular nostrils before he gave a faint nod of the head, it wouldn't do to disappoint Dozle. If he thought it was something worthy of discussion then he would ask but in truth he hadn't had much to say until the big man had broken the ice.

"So why did you give up the position of Major then?" At the very least this would give him more insight into Dozle's character and thought process.

"Because I was given that rank because my father was comrades with Deikun back in the old days and when our colonial militia began to the lay the ground work of a proper military, I was promoted. _Rapidly_. For at least a little while I wanted to at least experience the training and rigors that I barely had to endure when I first enlisted."

"You are a Zabi though, and now that means even more then it did-I wouldn't be surprised if you were a Admiral one day, won't this new military of ours need admiralty?" He said it jokingly but in truth? He knew it to be true, Degwin Zabi ruled this nation openly now and as Dozle had admitted, he had been fast tracked through promotions mostly because of Degwin in the past. Normally he wouldn't think much of any man who relied solely upon his family to raise him further but Dozle was different, he was a true soldier.

A exemplary soldier.

"I'm trying not to think about, but instead to embrace the time I have now to merely enjoy myself." Dozle enjoyed this hellish place? While the Academy did their job and did it well, the training was intensive and brutal, the conditions horrifying and most recruits washed out before the first semester even concluded. Graduates from Zum City Academy were rare, but it was little surprise that Dozle would find this...pit enjoyable.

"Your a odd one Dozle, I can't really say I understand you all that well." That was true enough, never before had he met him one single person who seemed so utterly devoted to the cause of being a warrior.

"Heh, you sound like my father now." He rather doubted that but he did let out a burst of mirthful laughter in reply. _'I fucking sound like Degwin Zabi?'_ He didn't know if he was supposed to take that as a compliment or not, but he supposed given that it was Dozle's father in question...it was complimentary?

"Was he really that surprised when you turned down the option to keep your former rank?" He supposed it must have been a shock to Degwin to think that his son would give up a affluent and high rank merely to enlist again at the bottom and work his way up.

"Oh like you wouldn't believe, one of the few times I saw dad honestly angry at me in years." He could imagine Degwin being outright angry would be a fairly terrifying sight to behold, even if he was Dozle's father and the height difference between them was great...there was just something primal about having your parents angry at you, something that echoed back to days of childhood and disappointing the parents.

"Guess the Zabi's are like any family in that regard-they have their squabbles." His own family had all but disowned him when he had enlisted, citing that he was going to become a indoctrinated zealot, a uncaring murderer...of course they still took the money he sent them monthly.

"Yeah, since Sasro died we have had our fair share of issues that have divided us but I think that when the time comes we will unite as a family...for Zeon if nothing else." That reply left him stilled for a moment, incapable of reply. What did he mean by that? For Zeon? He supposed the best way to find out would be merely to ask and the alcohol did nothing if not make his already bold personality all the bolder.

"For Deikun's legacy?" He knew that a few within the Zeon party had been hardliners of Deikun's philosophy but would they truly all unite beneath its banner? Was Contolism that important to the Zabi family? That important to Dozle? He couldn't see it personally, while he had only a passing knowledge of it himself he knew that among the intellectuals and elites of Side Three it was increasingly popular. Their eyes met at that question and for a moment he felt his gaze waver as he broke off the intense stare. It was another minute before Dozle replied, his voice lacking the intensity of its prior verbose nature but now seemingly collected and calm, almost subdued. That answer would remain firmly in mind, because it gave answer to just what Dozle Zabi fought for, just for what he would die to defend. Something that transcended, anything he had ever thought about his upperclassmen, the revelation of what Dozle would become a soldier for.

"No, for our country." That was the day he knew that war would come to the Federation, that it was eventuality and not probability.

The Principality of Zeon would never be free of the influence of Earth unless if the Federation itself was cast down. It was then that he knew his decision to become a soldier was the right one, it was then that he knew that he would forever walk this path. From now until the end of his life.

He would fight for Zeon, for both the nation and its people.

* * *

 **Zeon Resupply Fleet, Side One**

 **Pazock class freighter** **: Freedom**

 **January 5th 0079**

 **1200 Hours**

"Four new Zaku II's fresh off the assembly line." He let out a low whistle at the impressive cargo that dominated the massive container block of the freighter. As it stood now they had more pilots then suits, and this would certainly rectify that-this monotony of being a officer outside of battle was somewhat refreshing after two days of fighting straight, soon enough they would rally enough strength to breach the defensive lines around Side One and this war would end. He had thought it would happen yesterday, but the reinforcements from Luna II had proven him wrong, but now it wasn't only the Federation receiving reinforcements, it didn't matter if Side Two or Four were putting up more of a fight then what had been predicted, they would be scrap floating in the void before long...all that mattered was Side One.

That colony cluster was a damn abomination. The seat of the Federal Parliament in space, the seat of all of Zeon's misery, all of his misery. All the acts and decrees that had laid waste to his nation stemmed from that place, and he would see it broken beneath the metal heels of his Zaku. He owed to everyone who had died yesterday in the efforts to win this war, he owed to all those people who died in the streets like dogs at the hands of the Federation. He owed to himself to see that this war end in the grand triumph that he knew it could be, Zeon would be rulers of its own fate and perhaps that of the entirety of space-after all what use was that blue marble to humanity any longer? He had read the Contolist theory published by Deikun and had found it riveting. They were superior to the Federation because they no longer clung to the birthplace of man, rather they created their own worlds-rather then using the creation of God forever...Mankind became its own God. Yet for all his belief and fervor there was one point he could never agree with Deikun on-Earth.

Why should he care about the home to his enemy? Yes it was where his ancestors had lived before being exiled into space nearly a century ago but so what? What did that mean to him? Why should he care about it? He cared about the Earth only in so far as that it was where their enemy was based, the Federation maintained control of humanities birthplace and it was a potential target. That was his sole concern with it. Deikun's fascination with mankind's birth place was noble but it was something that he didn't share-that marble had become nothing more then just a twisted and corrupt sphere hanging in the void under the Federation. Perhaps if those who resided down there, drowned under the weight of gravity were fortunate...Zeon could free them from that yoke as well.

Why should the superior race be concerned solely with their own freedom when they can liberate humanity itself from the yoke of the Federation?

"Lieutenant Kries! Sir!" The Quartermaster who had come aboard along with the Zaku's back in the homeland called out to him breaking him out of his train of thought.

"Yes?" He replied as the man came to his side, floating through the gravity free environment of the interior hangar block.

"I need you to sign off on the delivery to Captain Delaz, you how the admiralty is-they prefer everything in triplicate." The man requested as he produced a thin bundle of grease and sweat stained sheets, before handing them over to him in a practiced and casual motion.

"Yeah, it wouldn't do to forget regulations especially considering Admiral Dozle is here at the front." While he loved his occupation, he loved being a pilot-a soldier. He did find it tiresome occasionally just at the sheer amount of bureaucracy one would encounter during a single day. They were at war now, obviously records would be kept to ensure that vital materials and supplies did not go ' _missing_ ' but still...it did eat up his time.

"Admiral Dozle isn't as much as a stickler for the regs as Admiral Kycilia but you know how it is." _Lady_ Kycilia was rather well known in certain circles of the military to be a very...formal sort of commander. Not to say that she wasn't talented or good at leading men, she was most certainly a able tactician and could easily rival many military commanders of the Federation despite her youth...even so she wasn't the most easy person to serve under.

"You got any more deliveries?"He asked mostly out of politeness as he finished signing off the delivery forms before handing the bundle of sheets back to the Quartermaster.

"Going back to the homeland after this run and then we are heading off to Side Four to deliver another shipment of suits-that's probably going to be my immediate future. Just going from battlefield to battlefield delivering weapons." That made sense, with the other fronts expanding, and their campaigns growing every single day no doubt every squadron would be requesting additional munitions and suits, thankfully there didn't seem to be a shortage, if production could keep up with demand then there would be no issue but that was the question here.

Could Zeon's production keep up with the demands of its campaigns?

He prayed that it would.

"Could be worse." It certainly could be! After all, how many of their merchant and cargo vessels were at risk during their transportation of goods to the front? The Federation fleet may be reeling in a few sectors but it was still a massive beast and lightly armed and armored cargo haulers wouldn't be much of a challenge to a Salamis. Yet even so...the man could have been tossed into a fighter and thrown into the grinder here at Side One or another of the fronts, as dangerous as his current occupation could be...he was safer then anyone here.

"Ain't that the truth." At least he had the good sense to know it.

"Noticed some interesting cargo though in the sealed containers near the back though, the hazard warnings make me think nuclear." He let out with a grim and short chuckle-they'd have to blast their way through to Side One and he had little issue with that. The only question then though would be, what to do with the remaining weapons? Shoot them at the colonies? He would if ordered, but even he wasn't as twisted to think that there wouldn't be mass outcry against the action, so far the war against the Federation was going in their favor. They could engage in any method of war to sustain that but if they were ever forced on the defensive-then this strategy may come back to haunt them. After all, wouldn't it be fair to use nuclear arms on Side Three in retribution? That thought chilled his blood and broke his battle fervor.

He'd kill any Feddie that sought to butcher the citizens of Zeon, that was his duty. Yet even so this battle, this war so far had demonstrated a single irrefutable truth-the Federation had them outnumbered severely, it was one thing to read upon mission briefing paper that you would be outnumbered thirty or more to one, it was another thing to see just that fact in practice. Yet even so their blitzkrieg style assault and sudden declaration of war had caught the Federation with their pants down if they could score a crucial victory and show the Federation that further war wouldn't gain them anything but result in the destruction of everything they sought to control...perhaps peace could come to them.

To that end he'd do anything that was needed to bring forth that peace. Zeon would stand triumphant at the end of this war-he could feel it.

"Yeah a little over four hundred type 98's for the Zaku 280mm, I bet those babies will pack a wallop against a Feddie battleship."

"They certainly do..." He trailed off recalling just yesterday when he had loosed two nuclear shells into the heart of Federal battle group consisting of five Salamis cruisers and one of those Columbus carriers all huddled together to provide as much fire as possible to protect their vulnerable carrier. In truth? All that had done was make them one massive target, one that he had found irresistible once he had noticed it. He'd broken through their fighter screen, his engines screaming through the darkness of space as he raised his bazooka upward. Waiting until the targeting computer chimed notifying that he had locked on to a trajectory that would score him a direct hit. The first shell had gone wide due to him having to do a last minute evasion to avoid a missile lock from a Saberfish that had actually managed to maneuver behind him, cursing both his own inaction and the fact that the Minovsky particles jammed his own scopes and long range radar not merely the enemies. Having to bank hard to the left to avoid the swarm of anti ship missiles loosed from the Saberfish he now turned his attention to the Federal pilot who thought he could score a easy kill. He'd dealt with that annoying gnat merely launching upward into it, the craft's machine gun fire tore into the front of his Zaku but didn't penetrate its thick armored plating just as his suit's left knee rose upward rupturing the fuselage in a clash of metal. That one annoying gnat dealt with he'd returned into his previous firing position the warships were tracking him unleashing a hail of anti aircraft and anti ship fire but he could evade that. The first sought may have missed due to bad luck but the second one struck true striking into the upper fore deck of the Salamis crashing into armored hull and shattering alloy and composites. Half a heartbeat later a second sun was born. That blinding flash, the cone of piercing light that just ate away at everything in its effective radius, tens of thousands of meters outward became a maelstrom of fire and death as ships ruptured and crumpled under the immense explosion. Saberfish that were just launching to counter his sudden breach of their lines merely evaporated in that shine, hundreds of people died in a instant-of course he couldn't merely observe that and revel at his accomplishment, the battle continued onward.

Tossing the spent bazooka aside had taken a moment, but soon after he was ready to get back into the fight-his 120mm machine gun registered that it still had over a hundred rounds in its drum magazine. _'More then enough to fuck up a few more Feddies days.'_

"Wish I had passed selection back at the Academy for the MS Corps...never had the reflexes or the smarts to do math that quickly on the fly, but..." The Quartermaster then seemed to notice the rather vacant look upon Dieter's face and called him back to reality. "Sir are you alright?" That question seemed to pull him out of whatever memory he had been dwelling within but rather then being reassured Dieter's reaction only left him puzzled.

"Yeah? I'm fine just remembering the battle from the day before." It was best to be honest he knew from personal experience, no one could call him out on having thoughts of battle, after all introspection did not hamper him unless if it was allowed to go unchecked. He knew his role, his place in things, he was a soldier, and his job was to kill the enemy until he was ordered to stop.

"Oh? You hit ace yet?" The question from the Quartermaster caught him off guard, but none the less he would oblige and answer it.

"Yeah, twice over now just from warships. I don't count Saberfish, I mean who would? Their nothing compared to a mobile suit." That was the truth of it, while they had fighter craft of their own and the new series of Gattle that were being produced back in the homeland would undoubtedly be fielded if this war didn't reach its conclusion before they were deployed, the age of ships was over. The Federation thought otherwise but the sheer kill ratio for the mobile suit proved it to him, there could be no real response to a mobile suit other then a mobile suit, and the Federation didn't have the dedicated facilities, personal or technicians to operate a squadron of suits little a fighting force that could rival Zeon's.

They had the advantage, and it would see them end this war in triumph.

The Quartermaster seemed to grin, a broken but genuine smile that revealed his yellowed smoke stained and chipped teeth.

"Hell if everyone can do that, this war will be over before the week is out."

* * *

 **Zeon Command Battle Group, Side One**

 **MS-06C Zaku II**

 **January 5th 0079**

 **1700 Hours**

The missile impacted, striking into the front of his suit far too quickly for him to have any hope of evasion. The bright explosion washing over and blanketing his primary mono eye camera in flame and fury as his targeting computer chimed into his ear registering he finally had a viable targeting solution as he pressed downward on his stick's primary firing stud, the the ammunition counter trailing downward as round after round left the barrel of his 120mm. Through the secondary camera's assorted across his Zaku's torso, limbs and back he saw the eruption of the Saberfish as it broke up under the assault, its debris and wreckage sailing back into the battlefield under its own momentum. _'Fuck you too Feddie...'_ He thought as his teeth unclenched from his upper lip, that had been careless and it had nearly killed him. _'Got too cocky, shouldn't play around with those bastards too much'._ It was easy to underestimate the enemy when they were in aging relics from the time before Mobile Suits but even so they shouldn't be underestimated, he knew that lesson. After all it had been squad of Saberfish that had shot down his wingman back at Side Two.

To die from a single Saberfish though? That would have been a insult, he was not some rookie on his first deployment, he was not some fresh faced new blood from the academy, he was a proud and decorated warrior of Zeon.

The Zaku was far from invincible and yet even so he knew it was superior to anything the Federation could field in its weight class, there was no Federation answer to mobile suits, not yet and there likely wouldn't be if this war ended quickly enough. The Federation had no mobile suits of its own and that was common knowledge, they had sought to linger in this age of the battleship and Zeon had advanced ahead and made such thinking, such technology obsolete. Checking the ammunition readouts on his 120mm he gave a grim nod at the amount of remaining cartridges, he still had enough to defend himself, even the dozen or so he had fired at the Saberfish hadn't depleted his already drained magazine quite yet, thankfully the 120mm had a fairly large capacity storing upwards of two hundred rounds within one of its drummed magazines. It was a superior weapon to his old Zaku I's 105mm machine gun which had to be reloaded after thirty shots that much was sure.

His eyes scanned the status boards even as his camera tracked the progress of the battlefield, throughout a hundred or so miles seven other Zaku II were active, his company, his squadron, his deployment. _'Good, none of those bastards went and died on me, even I was starting think I was fucking jinxed.'_ While it was not good candor to speak ill of the dead, the loss of his squad at Side Two had not endeared him to the personal assigned to either Dozle or Delaz, he saw the way the mechanics and technicians, even his fellow pilots looked at him. How had he survived when he had been in a inferior Zaku I and his squadmates had been outfitted with the cusp of mobile suit technology the Zaku II and its vast superiority over the prior Zeonic model? While no one had questioned his devotion or ability, many likely had wondered privately if he had actively participated in that battle beyond his initial assault on Colony 13. Sometimes he thought the military were worse then his own mother with their gossip, even the hint of something riveting had the entire fleet focusing around the latest scuttlebutt-which unfortunately had come to revolve around him and his activities during the Side Two campaign.

His Zaku registered no serious damage on its sensors, but he knew that was more a stroke of luck then any feat of skill. One of those missiles easily could have punctured the armored canopy of his cockpit and blown him into bloody red chunks of gore and meat the same as his squadmate back at Side Two, it was one pure dumb luck that it had struck the much more heavily armored frontal chassis rather then the cockpit. Letting out a held breath he undid the clasps of his helmet and left the protective device float free, his normal suit felt stifling in the cramped interior of his mobile suit but he wasn't as brash or egoistical as some of the other pilots, he always wore his regardless of his opinion on his own abilities.

While it offered only minute protection and made his movements slightly less crisp and easy to execute while piloting, it also at least gave him a chance of survival if his mobile suit was shot down and he somehow survived the ordeal. Running grease stained gloves through his sweat drenched hair he let out a weary sigh, his mobile suit squadron had made it through the battle without serious damage and a surprising lack of casualties but one would only need to glance at the battlefield as a whole to see that was the exception of the day and not the rule, the wreckage of hundreds of ships of both Federation and Zeon dotted the scope of the battle lines at Side One.

"9th Squad sound off." He grumbled into his mike as he sipped freely from the lukewarm water of his canteen, while the normal suit had more advanced models that had actual water bladders installed to carry a finite amount of the precious life giving liquid they were even more bulky and cumbersome then the standard issue and thus he'd make do with a standard canteen to slake his thirst. The following minutes were filled with status reports and declarations from his team, while it was good that not a one of them had died and none had suffered any serious damage to their machines he couldn't help but wonder at their effectiveness. Of the entire squadron only he had actively shot down more then a single warship individually during the entire brutal hours long engagement, the rest had contended themselves to offering supportive and screening fire to their own fleet, and while that was commendable it wouldn't end this war.

Their orders had been to breach enemy lines and deliver descive damage to their relatively fresh rear lines and forces, they had not broken through until their own navy had advanced though, they simply hadn't had the firepower or mobility to avoid the concentrated barrages of laser and shell fire that streamed from the Federation armada. That lack of progress had dictated the following hours of the engagement, while they had managed to collectively sink another six Salamis and heavily damage another ten it was minute damage to their forces. More pressing however was the sheer makeup of the defensive lines of Side One, to even breach the primary defenses of their force they'd have to cut through close to almost four hundred assorted vessels, and then there were rear line defenses and whatever the colonies of the Side themselves had in reserve...Zeon itself only had close to two hundred vessels total here for the entire campaign and with the losses they were suffering regularly it was clear they would be overwhelmed by sheer numbers if things did not change.

It was hard to believe that this entire situation had only been born in just a little over three hours.

The last three hours had seen some of the most bloody and contested fighting of the entire battle at Side One and at the end of the engagement neither side had definitive advantage over the other, Zeon had inflicted innumerable casualties to the Federation this day as they had the prior one but they had lost a considerable portion of their own strength. Entire battle groups were lost in the space of hours either to advancing ships or nuclear detonation as both sides traded blow after blow in a seemingly never ending procession of death. Much of Dozle's frontal battle lines in the entire sector had been cut to ribbons by suicidal charges by the Federation forces, their navy continuing to try to push back the invaders from Side Three, again and again they had repulsed them only lose ship after ship in the exchange.

With the damage inflicted upon their own forces, they couldn't press their advantage but they had succeeded at least in part here today. The Federation's frontal lines and much of their reserve forces were destroyed, but the cost had been far too high. With the loss of more then thirty warships, and entire sorties of fighter craft they would have to wait until reinforcements arrived to resume the battle. Gihren Zabi's dream of a grand victory seemed to be wilting on the vine in that moment. For every ship they sank, they would lose one, for every squadron of Saberfish destroyed they would lose Zaku, for every position they claimed, they lost too many of their own forces claiming it.

Would this be how this war would continue onward? Them winning victories but losing too much on a strategic level to maintain their campaign? How many soldiers had died already in this war that hadn't even lasted a week yet? It was undoubtedly in the thousands by now. Dozens of their new mobile suits, their supposed ace in the hole against the Federation's numerically superior navy had been destroyed along with their pilots, their grand fleet that they had spent all those years constructing was being whittled away battle after battle, they may have delivered a serious blow today against the Federation but there wasn't grounds here for a victory, not yet.

This war would continue until they won that decisive victory, until they landed that vital blow that sent the Federation reeling to the bargaining table.

* * *

 **AN: Well there we have chapter five, I must say I am rather happy with how this chapter came out and I do hope you all enjoyed it. Much as I'd hope this story would be better received there is no reason why I can't put my all into every single chapter. I don't have a real notion of when I will upload chapter six but be assured it will be uploaded eventually, if for nothing else then my own enjoyment in writing out this narrative. The plot is starting to come together, we are moving further into the first week of the war, its soon going to focus more on the individual Zabi's then it has to this point as they become more and more hands on in directing the war. The first four chapters, were merely a introduction to the character of Dieter, their abilities and position while the remaining chapters will focus more upon their impact and time during January.**

 **I don't want to give away spoilers but I will drop a hint, after British Dieter will run into Kycilia and that will prompt a new line of occupation insofar as the war is concerned.**

 **Anyway I don't want to fluff out this closing AN any further so I will wrap it up here. I hope to see you all for chapter six when it is uploaded and until then please remember to follow, favorite and review.**

 **Till next time.**

 **-Reborn Akatsuki.**


	6. Prelude to British

**AN: You know, writing this is a lot of fun but occasionally it feels like I am merely repeating the same scenario after another, I mean Dieter get's into his Zaku and shoots down a warship or Saberfish. Yet that is all combat in this scenario can be, the Federation will not be fielding mobile suits of their own for several months and their own units they can employ are fighter craft or ships. That said I do try my best to not make it overly** **repetitive, such as making each scenario unique in the number of opponents Dieter faces from single craft to entire squadrons, this will come into play more heavily in later chapters that feature events like British and Loum where Dieter will be part of full scale fleet battles that outstrip even the current one at Side One.**

 **In this chapter we find the groundwork for the British chapter(which will be next) laid and the prelude to that historic event. Other then that its mostly the same, expect a limited amount of back story tossed in with battle scenes and scenes designed to give the reader exposition, you know same old same old.**

 **Anyway enough rambling about my own personal troubles with the story, I do hope you are all enjoying it so far and I am quite pleased myself with how it is going. Also I am fiddling around with the chapter layout formatting, trying to decide on what style I wish to implement to lay the scenario of the scene, so if you notice any discrepancies and differences between this and prior chapters-that's why. Truth be told I have been uncertain of just what sort of layout I wanted to do since the start of the story, but I am trying to keep it mostly consistent.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam or any of its associated properties and licenses I do however own any original characters and content featured inside this story.**

* * *

 **December 27th, 0078**

 **Side Three, Zeon Military Academy**

 **Zum City**

 **1000 Hours**

"Cadet Ashaina!" He barked at the petite would be Asiatic pilot as his own Zaku II stepped past the flaming rubble and debris of the grounded Musai light crusier that she had designated to protect until repairs had been completed. "End Simulation." He muttered as he began to type the command code into his own simulator pod. As his own mobile suit passed the burnt out and warped steel frame of the massive warship it started to fade away as the simulator began to clear its own data cache. Once what had been a burning and war torn dead cityscape of the outer Zum City space docks once again began to resemble the circular and white plated dome of the simulator chamber. _'Not even ten minutes into the damn simulation either.'_ While he preferred piloting suits in reality, occasionally a simulator would have to make do, not to mention he had yet to be assigned one of the newer Zaku II C's so he was stuck to play pretend in a simulator, and now he couldn't even do that.

Even so he couldn't help but marvel at the specs of the suit he had just been ' _piloting_ ' it was faster, much faster then his old Zaku I and it obviously could carry far more equipment into combat which would undoubtedly be a plus. As his Zaku continued its ' _march_ ' as the world around it broke down to just the simulator it came to the resting place of the cadet's own Zaku II.

"Sir?" Came the stilled and nervous tone he had come to expect from the girl.

"Not only did you lose the Musai, just look at the state of your suit." He chided without heat, while it was true that this was merely a training op, a simulation, the implication of failure bit deep. _'Why did I agree to be a nursemaid again?'_ It was true he didn't have a active deployment until the 1st but even so, training ops were hardly what he would consider a riveting use of his time, after all they were just on the tail end of the rebellion just last November, they still needed forces to secure their own borders in case if the Federation decided that Zeon looked weak enough to invade. While border patrols were hardly noteworthy on a personal file, they at the very least allowed him to pilot a mobile suit.

The Cadet's own once pristine and factory new suit looked like it had gone through a grinder, numerous shell impacts and even the explosion from the Musai itself had wrecked the majority of its upper torso, its leg units barely looked like they could support the immense weight of the suit, undoubtedly if this wasn't a simulation the entire unit would be a wash. Its main camera seemed to be offline as well, honestly if this had been a real battle, no doubt this cadet would be dead. "Remember that even limited as they are when compared to a Zaku, those Federation tanks possess a powerful main gun that can severely damage even the thickest of armor plating, don't be reliant on the ' _invincibility_ ' of a mobility suit or your dead."

"Yes sir." She replied, hopefully taking that bit of wisdom to heart. While he had no doubt of the superiority of mobile suits in combat, that had been demonstrated handily enough by now to be irrefutable fact-he was under no illusion of the invulnerability of any piece of military tech. No doubt the Feddies in their massive warships thought themselves safe and secure, and that folly would be shown to them soon enough. _'She did alright though.'_ The drill hadn't been completed but she had proven effectiveness in the unit, and demonstrated a remarkably high showing of natural reflexes and talent, if she stilled her impatience she likely would be a fairly skilled pilot.

Killing the power to his pod and blinking his eyes several times in rapid succession to wade off the ill effects on his eyes that staring into the artificial screen of the pod induced. He pulled himself out of the simulator pod wiping the crease out of his uniformed shoulders before he turned to the girl clambering free of her own simulator, despite the chamber housing more then thirty pods, only they were occupying the room. While it was a rare practice it was not out of the ordinary for exceptional recruits to receive one on one training from actual pilots. Yuuka Ashaina, stood at attention awaiting his direction. He eyed her for a moment before letting out a held sigh as he ran a bare hand over his head in a practiced gesture of resignation, the girl looked like she was still shocked that a ' _drill_ ' had handily kicked her ass.

"We will resume drills in thirty minutes, until then go clean yourself up and think about what you can improve on, your testing scores indicate a natural aptitude in MS operation." While it was true that this simulator was based on the actual combat data of from the liberation war eight years prior obviously with updated technical and material specifactions to reflect the changes that had come and went since those early days of conflict between Zeon and the Federation. None the less this simulation presented a earnest look at the war that awaited them on the horizon and thus was likely beyond the ability of any ranking novice cadet, even a supposed prodigy like Ashaina, he had hoped for better. The war they were heading into would be a bloody affair where they would face down innumerable foes and still be expected to get the job done, if this simulator bested the newest generation of their soldiers, what hope would there be for the actual war?

"Yes sir." At the very least the girl knew when to shut up and follow orders, she was better then him at that age in his life, hard to believe what a decade could do to mentality, he had been a rebellious little punk when he was coming out of school and that had to be beaten out of him-the Academy had excelled in that though and soon he enough he had come to accept the station of his responsibilities. He had come to accept the dictation of himself and others at the behest of the state, the prospect of his life merely being utility to the state, that he would kill and die as ordered.

It was how he was to live from now.

* * *

 **January 8th, 0079**

 **Side One, Zeon Resupply Fleet**

 **MS-06C Zaku II**

 **0700 Hours**

"We are heading out, form up on my position and prepare to engage the enemy." Checking his suit's ammunition readouts to affirm that his suit had been replenished from the prior day's hectic fighting took him only a few seconds. With his fully stocked Zaku he hoped he could deliver some decisive damage to the Federation today. _'We need to punch through already, we can't let this bog down anymore then it already has.'_ His suit gingerly hopped off the stilled the cargo hauler that had served as their mobile resupply base, the Gwadan was moving back with the majority of the fleet today and thus a full restock wouldn't have been doable for the entire compliment. He had volunteered his own squad to merely make do with whatever the resupply ships had carried with them, as it stood they were exceptionally lucky that the ammunition hadn't run out yet. Besides perhaps Helium-3, ammo was their most vital resource for mobile suits, excusing the occasional exchange or replacement of worn or old parts, a mobile suit only needed a engine restock of helium-3 and ammunition to be a effective weapon. His main camera flared as it rolled down it's track, the piercing red orb cutting through the darkness as he hit his suit's accelerator causing it to launch forward.

Without the support of the fleet, they would have to have to rely on their own squadron's effective firepower to breach the lines and hold position, but that was fine. Dozle was tired of losing men and ships needlessly and he couldn't blame the man. Dozens of Musai had been sunk, even the Gwadan itself had been damaged the prior day when a enemy fighter had broken through its firing screen and launched a missile strike on its aft, it hadn't breached the hull, but it did leave a painful reminder that even a flagship could be sunk if the enemy just got lucky.

Heading towards the field, he noted the layout of the battle as it stood in this hour, with much of both sides frontal lines wreckage they were moving up additional forces. This meant that if they were lucky they could catch a Feddie group of ships without any sort of awareness. With their front line effectively being reduced, hopefully the Federation would feel over confident, that all that remained of Zeon was a frantic rearguard action that would allow their surviving forces time to flee. _'Fools, we aren't pulling back to run.'_ He knew that much, Gihren Zabi would never authorize a mass retreat, no while he had no inkling of the true purpose of pulling the fleet back from the positions it had hard won-it wasn't his call to make. He could only follow orders and hope for the best. Wreckage from fellow mobile suits impacted his sortie as they pushed through the darkness, The Federation was making token efforts to fight off what was left of Zeon's forces, and that gave him a idea.

With the field flooded with particles and wreckage, visual detection would be their primary obstacle for any sort of stealth maneuver. Thankfully it was exceptionally difficult in the vastness of space to actually get a visual, not until they would be right on top of them. "Break up and prepare for engagement, we are hitting them fast and hard." He cut off the comm line as he eyed, the growing collection vessels, at least four Salamis, the rest were made of either battleships or carriers, he couldn't tell which by visual detection and image painting this far away, so moving up through the debris fields, they slowly edged their way forward.

One of the benefits of the particle dispersal was that it made long range radar detection nearly impossible, working the the pedals as the mobile suit soared vertically ascending rapidly, as it charged upward avoiding the wreckage that dotted the void, skimming alongside the remains of a Zeon Musai that had apparently caught in a nuclear detonation if its warped and pitted hull was any indicator. Using the debris as cover he flipped the mobile suit in mid flight, beneath him perhaps a few dozen kilometers away rested the Federation battle group still moving into position, checking his scope he noted the positions of his squadmates, he hadn't assigned targets for this sortie, they would have the initial advantage, none of the Federation were preparing to counter a threat from above, they were too focused on the Zeon lines that were also slowly being filled. They opened fire, cannon and particle fire flung themselves free of the vessels as they opened up on the Zeon, now was the time to strike, while they were focused elsewhere, while they had the element of surprise.

"Go." He command as his own Zaku dived downward accompanied by his squadron, the sound of a targeting solution chime sounding in his ear as he pressed downward on the firing stud and opened up on the Salamis just as it apparently became aware of his presence above them. Across their battle group, his other comrades broke from cover, descending upon the unwitting Feddies and unleashing a deadly and devastating crossfire that ripped that battle group to shreds inside a handful of minutes.

A good start to the day to be sure.

* * *

 **January 7th, 0079**

 **Side One, Battle lines**

 **MS-06C Zaku II**

 **0900 Hours**

"Mathews, Brenn, Vetts and Rinton we are moving up, don't get bogged down fighting the small fry we have to push to the front of their lines." Cutting their way forward through the enemy lines, avoiding their defensive fire, striking at their ships and fighters, it was all reflexive by this point. They had been doing the same tried and true strategy for days now, they'd form a mass assault and try to pierce their lines using their firepower and mobility to score decisive damage upon the enemy fleet. So far however they had yet to truly inflict any lasting damage, the Federation horde seemed unending, for every ship they'd sink another two would replace it, so they kept trying, they were getting closer but for every thousand or so kilometers they took it seemed they paid for it with the loss of a yet another Zaku, their mobile suits were proving their effectiveness but it seemed they simply didn't have enough of the weapons to inflict any serious lasting injury on the Federation. _'We need reinforcements, Delaz's hangar just keeps getting more and more spacious...'_ In the two days since he had come aboard the Gwadan of its surviving 63 machines only 58 of them now remained, in the space of two days another five pilots and their machines had been destroyed.

Those losses could be replaced if given time, but their resupply schedule left much to be desired, munitions, additional suits, pilots...all of those took time to deliver to this distant battlescape but it was time they could scarcely afford to lose. They had to keep up the pressure, keep pressing and pushing against the Federation, try to destroy as many of them as possible, otherwise they'd never get anywhere against this seemingly unbreakable wall of ships they had arrayed against them. He had the confirmation of his orders from his squadmates as he had his Zaku drift forward, his 280mm aimed outward at another of the Federation's prized Columbus class carrier ships, even now it was disgorging its payload of fighter craft, he had no doubt that they were scrambling to ward him off, no doubt those that had already launched would be on him seconds. Even as the telemetry data was fed between the weapon's firing protocols and then referenced by the camera, he was eyeing the radar. It wouldn't do to die just before he got a solid lock on the target, it wasn't to be however as a single Saberfish rather then awaiting his massed compatriots to form into a squadron and attempt to pick his machine apart, charged at him, its frontal machine guns raking against his armored chassis. Its machine gun fire was not anything to be concerned with, but as he heard the familiar whine of the confirmation lock, that he was being targeted by a guided projectile...he knew he would have to deal with the fighter craft before he could sink its carrier. Firing up his thruster array even as the missile was loosed, he bounded the suit forward, avoiding clouds of junk and metal from the destroyed vessels and ships that were forming clumps of scrap and debris in the void.

The fighter craft continued to pursue him, loosing the the missile that had gotten a solid lock on him, his suit lacking any of the dedicated countermeasures that warships possessed to prevent such a weapon from scoring a direct hit, he had to continue to lead the missile astray, as it swam after his Zaku through the wreckage of the battle. He saw on his rear monitors as the thing impacted roughly into a armored bulkhead that had likely been blasted free of either a Federation or Zeon ship, seconds later the warhead detonated and he reversed thrust on his machine as he backed it come about, without that pest to deal with, he could focus now on the bastard that had fired it. His camera scanning the wreckage that dotted the space between the two respective battle lines of the Federation and Zeon, he couldn't make out such a small craft when compared to the massive bulk of a normal warship, and with radar all but useless except at close range, he knew a solid lock on target was expecting too much from his gear. _'Where are you hiding?'_ He couldn't waste his time with one space fighter, but until he killed the stupid Feddie he couldn't move up to reengage the Columbus, he would just be asking to take a missile to the back. Firing up his primary thruster unit, he had his Zaku coast through the littered remains of the battle that took place here, every now and again his mobile suit would vibrate slightly, signaling impact with smaller debris that his camera couldn't catch, every now and again bodies would come into view, either flash uniformed frozen corpses from either side or the more unfortunate victims that bore normal suits that had likely allowed them to survive in the vacuum until their air ran out and they suffered a slow death from asphyxiation. Suddenly his radar got a ping, and a small blip became evident on the screen, it wasn't another missile, it seemed the Federal pilot like him had been searching for the enemy, he watched as the fighter craft moved across the board, until finally his camera found the correct vantage and he spotted the bastard, with the fighter craft barreling away from him, a proper shot was out of the question unless if he got closer, setting aside his 280 and retrieving his 120 machine gun, he made sure there was ammunition remaining in the weapon...it wouldn't do to look stupid, and have this pilot kill him because he forgot to reload.

Banking his machine upward, gun at the ready he had his finger resting just above the control throttle on the triggering stud. He watched as the distance to his target diminished slowly, from roughly a hundred thousand meters, to eighty, to fifty, to thirty, in the space of a minute or so he had made his way up into the proper range of engagement, the Saberfish had him outclassed in maneuverability, but thankfully the stupid fuck apparently didn't have any clue just what awaited him on his back. Letting loose with a controlled burst of fire, the rounds traveled through the void before the fighter just swerved to avoid the incoming death that awaited it. _'What?'_ His thoughts rang out as he prepared to fire another short burst, he had basically been in position to end the engagement before it began, had the Feddie gotten tipped off by his own radar array? Had he gotten sloppy? What was the cause for that sudden reaction that had saved the pilot's life? The fighter took off violently towards him, veering out of his own targeting area and letting loose with another burst of its own machine gun fire, the rounds smacked harmlessly into his well armored Zaku but he growled out in irritation. Correcting his course, and letting his machine drift as his rear veiners lit allowing him minimal thrust to keep his aim steady but still allowed him minor efforts at movement, he would fix this damn mistake whatever had caused it. Firing again, in a continued stream that fell short of the speeding craft, he cursed as the machine harmlessly outpaced his machine gun fire, his machine gun ran dry only seconds into the burst and he cursed again as he hastily began the process of reloading the bulky drum. _'Wasn't this exactly what he had checked the damn thing for only minutes ago to prevent?'_ But how could he have known that the first burst wouldn't end the fight there and then?

The Federal pilot however obviously wouldn't let him reload his weapon in peace, the craft changed course, breaking from its trajectory as it spun about, firing again on him even as it closed the distance as it speed increased. Its engines burning a twin stream of white as it cut through the darkness of space, its firing seemed to be near endless as it continued to charge forward with seemingly reckless abandon as if he was going to ram his Zaku. 'Is _this guy fucking nuts?'_ He wondered internally as he continued to reload the weapon, the bulky spent drum fell off the weapon as he reached for his rear ammunition storage, coming back up with another one even as more streams of fire from the nose of the aircraft bit into his Zaku, he knew his armor wouldn't hold up indefinitely to that amount of machine gun fire, even if the caliber didn't penetrate the armor, it could damage cameras or exhaust ports or any other sensitive areas on the machine. Forcing his Zaku back as he frantically had the machine clip the new magazine into place, he saw the confirmation of fresh rounds in the magazine and he didn't hesitate. He didn't even wait for a firing trajectory as he unloaded on the charging Saberfish, just as it loosed another volley of missiles. He didn't hear any targeting lock, so he was assuming those were dumbfire, even as his own rounds smashed into the Saberfish, he pulled his Zaku up in a vertical climb, his Zaku smashing through the loose debris as he continued firing into the craft, the heavy rounds smashed through the body of the aircraft as it spun outward, damaged smoke and fire trailing from it across the flight path before it detonated in soundless ' _pop_ ' of brief light, the craft's missiles continued to speed onward, unaware of the pilot that had fired them was now dead, he didn't think they would strike anything vital in the debris field, hopefully they would hit a Feddie ship if they exited this scrapyard at all.

Never the less now that he had dealt with that annoying fly, he could actually get back to his job. "9th Team, sorry for the wait, I had to deal with a stubborn Feddie pilot who wanted to play chicken." He heard the roar of laughter from his squadron as he pushed his Zaku forward, killing that pilot had taken up a bit of time, by now no doubt the Columbus had scrambled its full compliment of fighters, and they were awaiting his sortie...'so much for a easy kill.' He groused as he cranked up his Zaku's reactor output further to his thrusters, he wouldn't give the Federation anymore time to prepare, he'd meet up with his squad and they'd rip that battle group apart.

* * *

 **January 6th, 0079**

 **MS-06C Zaku II**

 **Side One, Battle Lines**

 **1200 Hours**

 _'I can disable and destroy this inside thirty seconds.'_ He would employ the tried and true tactic that saw him to success time and time again in the simulators, he'd outmaneuver the bulky warship and use its limited fields of fire against it, if all went well and he didn't encounter any enemy fighter craft, he could cripple the vessel and then destroy it outright. He wouldn't call on his squadmates, they had their own prizes to seek, but the flagship-the flagship was his, it would make a fine trophy of this day. "I am going after the Magellan, cover my back." He spoke into his mike as he keyed up his engine sequence, he'd achieve maximum thrust within thirty seconds, he just had to make do with standard speed until the engine fired up in earnest. He forced his machine into a downward spiral, avoiding the cannon fire from its Salamis escorts even as his wingmates fell upon them with their own barrage of fire, nine Zaku was something no Federal battle group wanted to deal with without fighter escorts, and while they were scrambling no doubt from nearby carriers to close the gap that was forming, they wouldn't arrive in time.

He felt that in his gut even then. They were caught flat footed and hadn't been expecting a outright attack on the center of their battle group, they had been trading sporadic fire with Musai and Chivvay cruisers, they hadn't detected them until they were right on top of them.

Veering within his machine he felt the restraints tearing into his armored flesh as he banked and avoided the frantic canon fire of the crippled Magellan battleship, his Zaku 120mm was loaded with its standard ammunition and he just needed a free moment to unleash hell upon the already flagging warship, they had spent the last twenty minutes obliterating its picket forces and they had finally reached the apparent 'flagship' for the defensive screen in this sector. While he doubted anyone important was aboard the vessel in the grand scheme, a Magellan at the end of the day was a far greater prize then any number of Salamis, these ships were far more expensive and powerful and sinking them cost the Federation far more. _'Five seconds.'_ Waiting for a break in the fire, he pushed his Zaku forward barreling beneath the vessel as he flipped his suit into a counter clockwise motion or into a classic aviation barrel roll, triggering his primary thrusters he forced his Zaku into a lateral motion, his machine gun pointed at the exposed aft section of the ship as he sent several shells into its engines, explosions and debris ripped across its armored hull. _'Three seconds.'_ With their primary method of transportation now rendered inoperable the massive vessel was stuck using verniers and retro engines that were designed for rapid movement during battle rather then its dedicated engines, it was time to finish this opponents. As he pulled his stick upward into a steep climb ascending the smoking bow of the vessel, its beam weaponry fire across the horizon of his monitor as he placed the barrel of the machine gun against the bridge of the warship, pressing downward on the trigger he sent a barrage of automatic fire into the command structure rending it apart in the space of seconds, the warped and blown out viewports of the vessel spat flame and oxygen as it decompressed under his fury. Pushing his Zaku back as the ship began to descend into the unoccupied void he watched as numerous escape pods broke from the doomed ship before the once mighty weapon of war erupted into a firestorm of outward exploding oxygen and debris.

* * *

 **January 5th, 0079**

 **MS-06C Zaku II**

 **Side One, Battle Lines**

 **2400 Hours**

"9th squad, pull back, we are withdrawing from the field, we have our orders." No further progress could be made as things sat, his own suit's power was dwindling and due to the heavy combat he was almost completely out of ammunition, while he still possessed a few spare cartridges in his primary machine gun, he was down to his last drum magazine and wouldn't last long in a protracted engagement. _'All it takes is a single Feddie getting lucky and that's it...end of the road and I have come too far to die senselessly like that.'_ Seeing the incoming hail, he opened the channel to receive confirmation of his orders. "Roger 9th lead, we are forming up on your position." He heard the communication array bark into his ear, while at the very least his orders weren't being questioned, or rather the orders he was relaying from Delaz who in all likelihood was monitoring the battlefield and had come to the same conclusion Dieter had, abiet on a much larger scale, if he was running low on ammunition with his reactor about to give out, how many other suits across the battlefield were approaching that threshold as well? So far he had seen almost five straight hours of combat, with only minor breaks in between either to refuel or rearm, the war waited for no man and he wouldn't become a accomplished and accredited pilot during war unless if he actively took part in it.

Though how much of that was his own desire to see this war end in glory for Zeon and his own ego was up to debate, after all if he proved himself during this war he would be promoted, he wouldn't have to languish as he had in his rank since the Academy, he would lead men, devise strategies and work in concert with command, rather then simply being yet another squadron leader. He had ambitions, dreams and a desire for his own success, while he was no longer that poor slum dweller who had came out of the outer ring of Zum City, he never the less was a far cry from the nobility of Side Three. He came not from a distinguished house like Ral, Zabi or Deikun, Kries was a name that no one knew of yet, and while he did not seek fame he knew that he would achieve if he became a success. He demanded excellence of himself, and he would achieve it, with his victories so far, his name was beginning to be circulated among the fleet, he was already a ace nearly three times over, and this year wasn't even a week old yet-for the controversy that followed his name, none could deny his effectiveness on the battlefield.

However for all his skill, ability and the recognition that brought, it didn't silence the stares, or lingering gazes or the hushed murmurs that spoke of what he had done on the outbreak of war. He would simply have to rise higher and higher, until eventually even if people did know what he had at Colony 13, they wouldn't be able to judge him-couldn't judge him. Once he stood within the military of their nation as a Captain, or Admiral or perhaps even a part of the ministry of war itself, a portion of its ruling body under Supreme Commander Gihren himself, he would be untouchable, no one would be able to speak ill of him then, no one would stand in judgement of him, after all what he had done, he did for all Spacenoids.

For the Independence of Side Three and the Superior Race of Zeon.

That was what he told himself, his justification for what he had done.

* * *

 **December 28th, 0078**

 **Side Three, Zeon Military Academy**

 **Zum City, Observation port 408**

 **1300 Hours**

"Have you see actual combat before sir?" The question came out of nowhere and caught him off guard as he lowered the ration bar from his mouth, chewing thoughtfully for a moment before swallowing the mixture of heavy grains and proteins. Eyes drifting outward to the forward viewport that cast the vast collection of colonies that made up Side Three, from this point one could truly take in the majesty of their nation, the sheer makeup of their state. What their people had built from nothing, it was all a awe inspiring sight to him, even though he had seen it uncountable times by now. None the less the Cadet appeared eager for a answer, deciding to respond honestly he cobbled together a reply.

"Eh, I was deployed to Quintzem last month but I wasn't on the front line or anything. I mostly spent that deployment flying a Gobble in support of our navy while they were deploying infantry. There wasn't much use for a mobile suit pilot in that campaign, none were ever deployed after all. But I do know my way around the inside of a fighter and I can fly one well enough to provide escort service I guess." Wasn't that the truth, he was always just a bit out of the way when it came to fighting in Zeon's prior struggles, he was stuck at school during their own fight for freedom, and even though he was a pilot during the Side Six liberation he hadn't been selected to fight there either. Even when he was actually deployed to a active combat zone, he was stuck on the rear lines, or at best flinging bombs into a city form a fighter craft hoping that it would damage enemy morale or infrastructure.

"So you have never faced the enemy in combat then?" He never had, he had witnessed their arrogance, their cruelty and their hatred of Zeon but he had never fought them. He had witnessed the aftermath of their departure of Side Three, the damaged ruins and torn apart wreckage that had been entire city blocks, but he had never struggled against them to contest that, he wasn't that old a soldier yet. He wasn't like Dozle in that regard, he had been a kid when they had declared independence, and in his youthful stupidity, he didn't understand that the Federation needed to be fought, to be stopped. _'Maybe I would have died in a ditch or ended up with a life long injury.'_ Either way he had no ground to speak of here and he would admit as much.

"The Federation? No, I was in school when the liberation war was ongoing and didn't enlist until we had actually declared independence." That was concise and to the point he thought, it would reveal at least the spectrum of his service to Zeon to the kid. _'Won't make her idolize me or anything but at least its honest._ ' He didn't seek undue adulation or praise anyway. He was a man of his own talents, his own reputation, and that was built upon dedicated and dependable service, while he might not have sunk sixteen Federal cruisers inside half a hour like some of the pilots that had flown at Side Six had...he never the less was called upon occasionally to serve. This exercise itself proved that.

"I see." That response however didn't strike him as overly respectful, it seemed far too matter of fact, did she resent the fact she was assigned to a instructor who had never fought against the Federation? He wouldn't blame her for that, but never the less he was a superior officer and she was merely a Cadet still. Gathering forth his thoughts, he projected his voice in a even if slightly cold tone, while he wouldn't fault her for being disappointed, but she would at the very least respect his rank.

"Cadet Ashaina are you questioning my ability to instruct because I have never piloted a suit into battle? Do you think you would do better with someone who had fought in the liberation of Side Six?" While there had been relatively few of them, that campaign had been the first deployment of mobile suits into actual combat, their effectiveness and prowess displayed to all. Despite him not taking part, he had heard the stories, read the reports and it had been riveting stuff even years ago, now he was unsure-the colonial forces of Side Six had few Federation regulars in them, they had for the most part been a ragtag militia group, little match for both the Side Six nationalist movement and the forces of Zeon...even so the pilots who had flown in its liberation were celebrated as heroes. A single mobile suit squadron had been a effective counter to the threat of the Federation navy, and more then a match for the token forces the Side itself possessed.

"No sir, I was just curious sir." Was that all it was? Mere curiosity? What made his potential history all that interesting? His story was like many other stories, he came to the military out of few other prospects and needed that income to survive, for his family to survive. Even if they detested his current occupation, he would still undertake this job, because unlike them, he understood the need of it, beyond the basic monetary concerns, Zeon needed soldiers to protect it from Federal aggression. Coexistence with the Federation was impossibility, he understood that...few outside of the military seemed enthused by that sort of attitude though. He couldn't blame them for that mentality, no one in their right mind would look forward to a war that in all likelihood would see tens of thousands killed before it concluded, but none the less...he wouldn't shy away from his duty.

"You wouldn't be wrong to look at those men who flew at Side Six as exemplary pilots though, each and everyone of them was hand selected to be deployed there, I was only a few years out of the Academy back in 77. But here we are two years later and I am instructing you in the aftermath of yet another armed conflict, but as I said before I never flew a suit at Quiintzem." Truth be told, he knew he wasn't as skilled as a great many pilots that had flown there, but every single day he sought to improve, to strengthen his understanding of how this new technology would revolutionize warfare, he was far more capable then he had been back in the program's infancy during his days at the Academy, even so he knew that if he ever stopped improving he would be either killed or replaced.

There could be no stagnation in skills such as his.

"Your service record shows you are a capable pilot though surely?" Wasn't that the question though? He supposed it didn't really matter if he told the truth here, none of his personal service history was important enough to censor for propaganda or anything, he wasn't like those folks who flew at Side Six after all, it wouldn't do to tell the folks at Zeo Net that the majority of that squadron had been crewed by either fresh faced Academy Graduates or even those still undergoing training. It was hard to admit but, he knew that those ' _kids_ ' were likely better then him, and would be remain that way until he surpassed this gap between their levels of skil.

"I'm far from the best, but yeah I can fly." Truth be told, his test scores back in his Academy days had hardly been anything noteworthy before he had gotten into his first Zaku, he had a knack for MS operation though. His body was put through the rigors and stress of piloting a high performance machine like a mobile suit and he took to it just fine, where others would black out under the intense g force and pressure being bombard across their body, he would endure it and continue onward, if he wasn't the best pilot surely he was tough enough to stomach the rigors of piloting of a suit. _'I still remember the first time I took a Zaku into the vacuum, the speed, the freedom and the sheer power at my fingertips...'_ It had been a awe inspiring revelation, just as he had know it would be all those years before when the MS program had been announced nationwide. He had fulfilled his ambition in the military though, he had become a pilot, he now had a suit assigned to him, and while it was a aging relic in this age of modernization of everything, even now he heard occasional rumors of the Zaku II having newer variants and models being tested in secret across Side Three, while he knew nothing concrete on these tests, they were case and point of why he was somewhat reluctant upon piloting a Zaku I into actual combat.

Why should he have to settle for a dated model when there are prototypes to be tested? While it was true he didn't want to kill himself flying a suit with a unstable reactor or engine that would explode when over stressed-he never the less couldn't help but think that his capabilities would be better utilized in the latest and greatest rather then what was tried and tested. He would never grow as a pilot if he stuck to flying his Zaku I, he knew its capabilities, its limitations and strengths, he knew everything there could be known about the suit and he knew there could be no growth there. No advancement, he would be stuck a middling pilot, who was restricted by the aged technology implanted upon his mobile suit.

"If you weren't good enough, surely you wouldn't have been selected for the Mobile Suit Corps, you'd be attached to the navy as a fighter pilot-not be a member of the Space Attack Force." It was still hard for him to comprehend the division of the military as it set now, a little over two months ago the military had been redesigned with personal transferring across it as war became more and more evident on the horizon. even so he was pleased to be assigned to Dozle and his Space Attack Force rather then under Kycilia in her Mobile Attack Force.

"You got a point there kid." He supposed overall his skills were solid enough to mandate his place in things, truth be told he knew he was likely better then he gave himself credit for but... _'I won't be like those assholes who think their invincible and then go to war and die in the first day.'_ He knew his own skill, he knew his limits and he knew that bad luck could kill him just as easily as his own personal skills failing him. He wouldn't add overconfidence to that mixture, he had enough vices without adding another.

"What about you? You ain't a native as far as I can tell." Her features while not atypical of a Spacenoid clearly didn't stem from the multicultural mixture that made up the predominate portion of Side Three's population, she as far as his eyes told him looked almost like a Earth dweller, but she was acclimated to space well enough and not to mention obviously a citizen given she was in the military. None the less he couldn't stem that mild curiosity about her appearance Asiatic descent wasn't uncommon in Side Three but it was a minority when it was clearly pure strain with no mingling done over the prior decades of space habitation as cultural and racial barriers broke down in place of the new environment. In Side Three regardless of race, appearance or gender, all were equal, no longer was humanity mired in its pointless fixation upon genealogy and country of origin.

"No sir, I was born on Luna...Von Braun to be specific. I came here as a kid though, Side Three may as well be home." The moon? Well he supposed he could understand her comfort in space then, while that rock was beholden to Earth its people were more akin to their own then those who still dwelt upon Earth. But what would make one of the Lunar citizens come to Zeon? That story was something he knew likely was deeply personal, he wouldn't pry into her affairs, at the very least her willingness to immigrate indicated that not of the Federal populace outside of the home colonies viewed Zeon as a cultural backwater. Still he needed to stir the conversation at least somewhere productive, rather then fixation upon her place of origin, he would instead return to the duties that had actually brought him there to teach her over the prior days.

"Well we are lucky to have you. But you still better shape up or you won't be ready for actual combat, I would hate to hear about you dying on your first sortie-it would mean this entire stint at the Academy would have been a waste..." Truth be told? He had never actually done hands on instruction with a individual pilot before, this was a first for him, he didn't know exactly how to teach except to parrot what had been told him years before. Instill confidence in ability, respect for chain of command and a constant need to improve.

"I won't disappoint you sir." He actually smiled at that. It wasn't often that his rather grim and stoic face broken into a open smile, but none the less it occurred-that sentiment was just so alien and out of place. _'You don't even know me kid, and I'll be gone in a few days.'_ Disappointing him should have been the least of her concerns, while his recommendation would undoubtedly impact her future to a degrees surely she had enough confidence in her abilities to not be solely reliant upon just his own musings. She would become a soldier, she had put herself on that path and either her own willpower would carry her there...or nothing would.

"Don't worry about disappointing me, just don't fucking die alright?" They would need every able pilot they possessed to fight the coming war, their opponent was a government that controlled the majority of the human race, they were a few million fighting against a government that ruled billions. _'At the very least, I don't see her needing any motivation to train harder, she seems pretty hard on herself already-she'll need that.'_ War was inevitability, it could be declared tomorrow and he wouldn't be surprised, their military now dwarfed any colonial forces in the entire solar system, but would that be enough to fight off the Federation?

"Yes sir."

* * *

 **January 6th, 0079**

 **Zeonic Battle Group under Captain Delaz** **, Gwazine class battleship: Gwadan**

 **Mobile Suit Hangar**

 **0800 Hours**

Sitting in the ready room, awaiting his next sortie was a time consuming chore but one he had endured for years now and was quite used to going through, in this spare period of time he'd check over his equipment, normal suit and side arm. Anything and everything to be productive and to ensure his own readiness for battle, digging into his normal suit and retrieving a sealed plastic case from its primary pouch he flipped open the little container. Within were housed half a dozen needles, clearly labeled with drug and medical information he couldn't read, while he was well versed in military jargon, medical beyond basic first aid and response was beyond him. None the less he knew what these would do, as he ripped the stopper off of one of the needles before jamming it with practice born of years of usage into his uncovered left arm. He felt the numbing effects of the stimulants and their burst of energy as the combination of Amphetamines and reflex enhancing cocktail took hold of his system, he wasn't unusual in his use of stims, a majority of pilots took them for long sorties. It kept the body fresh and invigorated even hours into combat and the Federation did the same, regardless of the health risks, if they failed to use the same resources, their own fighting force would be at a disadvantage...besides it wasn't like he wasn't already poisoning his body, why not add to the list.

Pulling the needle free, before placing the empty syringe back into its case, he resealed the box and placed it back into his kit. Letting out a tuneless whistle, he felt the familiar rush of energy and endorphin's as his body went into overdrive, say whatever you want about this crap, at least it was more pleasant then all the vaccinations that he had too take back at enlistment, he was never overly fond of needles but...one had to make do with their prescribed gear. Digging into his belt holster, he retrieved the familiar ZO8 Handgun, popping the slide back and freeing the stored round he freed the magazine with the release clasp and made his check to see that the weapon was indeed loaded and ready for action. While a sidearm may not be a critical tool for a pilot, he wouldn't want to be without the thing if he ever needed, after all, combat didn't end once you were shot down and he would never be captured, one could only guess what the Federation would do to a Zeon pilot they caught.

Not to mention if they ever figured out what he did at Colony 13...that apparently wasn't a well kept secret on their end, so he wouldn't even be surprised by this point if the Federation had a name to put to the deed, they'd shoot him at best and throw him into a prison for the rest of his life at worst...so he would in fact rather have the ability to end his own life, rather then submitting to their ' _justice_.' Grinning at his success, he replaced the cartridge he had freed, sliding it gingerly back into the chamber before refeeding the magazine into the interior of the gun. The impact of the magazine hitting the feed mechanism resulted in a satisfying and familiar _click_. Holstering the handgun came next as he went over internally what the pre mission briefing had gone over, for the past few days it had been more or less the same-kill as many Federal ships as possible, dismantle their navy and force their way into Side One. His kill ratio was pretty good, but he could do better. He also had a secondary objective, he was to check in on the nearby sector forces, and meet with commanders and to convey requisition requests and personal requests-he had idea for where he could start such a task.

After all, the very ship he had come to Side One aboard was short its entire MS compliment. Not to mention it would be good to see the Wrath's captain again, the man had struck him as the earnest sort and that was always appreciated by him. It would be good to get a level and clear view of the field as it stood, not the propaganda and assorted bullshit of the admiralty. Delaz for all his strengths and virtues, was a a man who stood by the party line, if Gihren Zabi said they were winning here-they were winning here, it was just that simple to him. Even if that logic didn't match with the reality, Alden however didn't strike him as that kind of man. At the very least, that task would give him the excuse to peg the captain for any worthwhile observations on the enemy strength and movements. While he had been present for much of the fighting, his perspective was that of a pilot's and was limited to that, he didn't command anything more then his own squadron, and thus his field of view was restricted to just what his team was fighting against, but Alden was a navy man...he'd probably have a good overview of the situation if nothing else.

The signal klaxon wailed, breaking his train of thought-it was time to get back to it, hopefully his unit wouldn't be assigned to rear line duty and hopefully he wouldn't be requested to go into another field to aid its attacking force. He was quite content where he was, this was the thickest fighting now, with all their forces concerting on breaching their lines, the Federation had strengthened its defenders immensely with whatever they had left, even now straggling reinforcements occasionally came into field-not the massive horde of the prior days but still far more then they were getting...he was needed here, he felt that it was his place. He would aid Zeon in breaching those lines, cripple their military and grant Zeon's its ultimate victory. Stepping into the hangar, he was greeted by the other members of his unit, all eight of them stood at the ready, whatever could be said about the Zeonic military at the very least their own forces were disciplined...at least their pilots were for the most part.

"Well men, you know what the briefing said, what we have to do, lets go do it." He wasn't one for formality or speeches like some officers, he was no master orator, his skill sets were better focused towards active combat.

* * *

 **January 6th, 0079**

 **Side One, Zeon Musai Light Cruiser: Wrath**

 **1000 Hours**

"Captain Alden, I trust you and the Wrath are holding up?" Truth be told, he was glad that least one familiar face had stuck around, but that could change in a hour, a day from now or a week from now. With them at war, friends old and new would perish in their struggle, it was something he had to detach himself from, he couldn't grieve for the dead...he could only give them retribution. _'I hope you never have to see this Yuuka.'_ How would his would be apprentice actually take to combat? She had been in their training program for the better part of three years but even so, it was a far cry to experience drills, simulations and mock battles and then see the true reality of war. He knew he was doing her a disservice by hoping that she wouldn't be needed to fight, they needed every able pilot and she was a prodigy, far superior to himself when it came to natural affinity with a mobile suit but even so...she was just a girl, he had been a man grown when this war had broken out, she hadn't even hit eighteen yet.

"Not as well as I'd like, we have yet to receive any additional mobile suit forces to replenish our detachment, we are making do as best we can according to the orders we are given but with losses mounting I fear for morale if we cannot press our advantage."He understood the man's concerns, in fact he shared them truth be told.

"We don't have the numbers or firepower to breach those lines in earnest, we can splinter their forces a bit and send a squadron or two into retreat but we cannot outright claim victory, it doesn't matter how many ships we sink if we cannot overwhelm the enemy, we are engaging them where they are strongest and its costing us dearly." Alden had a similar view of him when it came to that he guessed, He knew that at the end of the day, the number of ships sunk here was pointless, irrelevant, the Federation would have them replaced inside months. For the last decade they had been building the largest collection of forces in human history, and now it was being unleashed against them.

"You may be right lieutenant but we have our orders, you have your orders, we can only follow them and hope for the best." That was the truth of the matter wasn't it? Bellyaching wouldn't do them any good, they could only follow through and hope that the brass had something planned, some secret operation for victory...either that or that they had an entirely new army that no one, not even the soldiers of Zeon themselves knew about.

"Never thought I'd see the day when I was complaining about not being able to kill the enemy in vast enough numbers." He was quite confident in his kill count to date, but yet for all the damage he had inflicted upon the enemy, there seemed to never be a end to them. He could gut a battle group with his squadron and it would be replaced inside half a hour by their reserve forces, it was ridiculous. _'Makes you realize just how fucking small the Sides are...we have a population of tens of millions but the Federation has a population outstripping our own by billions.'_ They would always have more soldiers then them, more ships then them, more supplies and money then them...sometimes in the darkness of night, doubt plagued him, doubt over whether or not victory was even possible in this war for them.

"Even with all of our advantages we are barely holding our own, our fleet moves up and we advance, we penetrate their lines only for their counterattack to send us back to our prior position, and this has been going on for days now, I hear that the battles at Side Two, and Four are more or less the same as well..." He had heard those rumors as well, they were flooding the fleet, morale was beginning to fall, their early victories and successes against the unsuspecting Federation had now bogged down into attritional warfare and was seeing entire squadrons of their navy decimated. He couldn't blame the people at Side Four or Two from merely destroying the colonies, at the very least then the Federation would have no support structuring to allow it to wage war in space beyond Luna II and the Moon where it held vast amounts of its naval infrastructure.

"I suppose we should be thankful that we at the very least have mobile suits to give our side at least a minute advantage, but there are just so many enemies." Aces were now commonplace in the fleet, it was no oddity to have a single pilot with upwards of ten kills, the truly skilled went past twenty, and occasionally a few even hit thirty. His own count was only eighteen as of the third day of the war, but with each passing day getting them no closer to a ultimate victory...he was beginning to lose hope in the idea of this not being a war that would last months if not years. _'We still have a shot at ending this before the close of January but it grows further and further away with each passing day.'_ He would have to redouble his efforts, he'd find someway to inflict serious damage upon the Federation, he had to.

"Our battle group arrived in sector with eight vessels, we now have three, every single day this continues we lose another experienced crew and ship, even with mobile suits and nuclear weapons we are no closer to conquering Side One." That was the reality of their situation he supposed, he wanted to deny it, to offer the captain a counterpoint, but there was nothing he could say to change that single statement from being absolute in that moment. They may not have been losing, but they certainly weren't winning, and that was unacceptable to him, how many thousands of them had died out here in this growing collection of scrap floating in space?

 _'If Side Two and Four are going as poorly as our own campaign I fear for when we arrive at the breaking point for our logistical chain.'_ It just made sense after all, if all their campaigns were bogging down into attrition based warfare with no clear winner in engagement after engagement no doubt the replenishment forces and equipment would stretched thin by having to reinforce multiple fronts, the very genius of their opening gambit would work against them if they did not score a major victory soon.

"Still perhaps if the rumors out of Side Four are true, we may not need to garrison forces in that sector for very much longer." Alden murmured more to himself then Dieter, the rumors out of Side Four were grim to say the least, in that the majority of the colony clusters had been struck and destroyed during the events of the battle, rather then continue to slug it out pointlessly against the numerically superior Federation-Zeon pilots had launched a spree of destruction across the colonies obliterating the Federation control points and resupply facilities for their fleet rather then trying to conquer them, scuttlebutt had it that the tactic was proving successful and with every colony lost the Federation was being pushed back.

However that was merely rumor, although Dozle had confirmed that certain portions of their fleet were destroying colonies in earnest the prior day, but he had no real way to know if that was sanctioned by high command or just battlefield desperation taking over. Regardless if it stemmed from the mind of Gihren Zabi or no, he knew that as soon as he heard that Colony 13 wasn't the end of it, that it would become battlefield practice if allowed, he knew that if ordered he would destroy another colony, he had stood amid the ruins of a colony already after all. What would another be to his record?

It made sense in a cold sort of logic, if you couldn't openly best a opponent, destroy where they can rearm and resupply. It would force them to abandon the front if the colonies they were assigned to protect were destroyed. Yet even so that tactic wasn't viable for Side One, not yet. They would have to penetrate the Federation lines in number enough to possess the firepower to deliver any amount of significant damage to Side One, after all there were hundreds of colonies per Side if not more. One Zaku couldn't hope to deliver any real damage to a Side, no they'd need dozens of Zaku, and they'd need to be supported by the fleet.

A tall order to be sure.

Yet even so there was a sweet target amid the colonies of Side One, in the heart of the colony cluster floating the void was Shangri-La. Home of the Federation Parliament, their ruling civil body and the center of their interstellar economy and government, destroying that would certainly cause numerous issues for the Federation. Even if he couldn't destroy every single colony in the cluster himself, if he could destroy that...perhaps the Federation would have enough of this war-if not he would keep killing until they did.

* * *

 **January 8th, 0079**

 **MS-06C Zaku II**

 **Side One, Battle Lines**

 **1200 Hours**

The Salamis's bridge broke under the intense impact of the shell just half a second before the explosive itself detonated rending the command tower from the vessel in a flash of shrapnel and light. The warship seemed to buckle under several more internal explosions before combusting outward in a cone of metal and fire, the scrapyard that decorated the outer fields of Side One now had another addition to it...eyes scanning the the field for his fellow pilots, who were likewise carving through the Federation defenders. _'Make that several new additions.'_ He grinned, they had finally succeeded. Tossing aside the spent Bazooka for a moment he had his Zaku reach behind it's back to its rear arms unit and come free with another shell, before sliding the warhead down the tube of the angular explosive launcher. Reloading the Zaku 280mm mid battle took time but for the moment there was nothing on radar, he had time to slide a few more shells into it. With a capacity of four shells per reload and its impressive firepower, he was glad he had the weapon even if more advanced models were being produced even as this battle raged. Whatever the new incarnation of the weapon was, he hoped for increased ammunition capacity, because four shells was simply not enough, you could sink a warship with that, but reloading it presented far too sweet a target during active combat.

"This is the unit leader-9th mobile suit detachment under Captain Delaz. We have breached the enemy perimeter at point 7.4 in M Field, I repeat we have a breach the enemy is reinforcing but we can break through, I request a update on orders over." The static and discharge from his radio and communication equipment was his only reply, the concentration of M particles made any long range transmission iffy and during the chaos of battle it was all but impossible for one signal to penetrate even a few thousand kilometers away, still he needed orders. They had breached Federal lines, the enemy was trying to reorganize their defensive efforts and regroup but for the moment, they had a straight shot at the colonies of Side One. He'd need support to make it into their rear lines and past them into the colony cluster, but they could muster even a dozen warships and perhaps a few more squadrons of mobile suits...they could rip Side One apart.

Sweat beaded down his forehead within the stiffing interior of his helmet, he wanted to rip the thing free but he wouldn't do that, he had far more self control then to break standard pilot safety procedure over minor inconveniences. Raising his 120mm upward as he forced his Zaku into a upward thrust, his suit's reinforced engine module blasting its nuclear output in concentrated volleys to propel the massive war machine through the vacuum, his scopes registered no enemies but it was obvious from prior experience that this meant little. Saberfish or perhaps even something larger like a warship could hide in a deadzone on his radar, he wouldn't be flanked, not while awaiting orders, not today.

They could end this war right here and now, all he needed was the damn order, he still had one spare 98 nuclear shell, he could lob it straight at the Federation capital if we could get within effective firing range, with the deaths of their parliament and leaders of the majority of their civil government surely they would have no choice but to sue for peace in the aftermath of this battle. "I repeat, we have a breach in the enemy line at point 7.4, I request a update, we do have permission to engage?" His fingers clenched within his thickened gloves as his grip only tightened on the left hand control stick. _'We can't wait, in ten minutes this line is going to be reinforced and we will be right back where we were, damn it I thought these particles were supposed to be OUR advantage.'_ The fact that the Minovsky particles were acting against them in this critical junction only infused him with more anger at the situation.

Yet he couldn't engage without authorization, he could only watch as the once decimated lines before them were reinforced by encroaching Salamis cruisers as the minutes slipped by and his only reply was the deadened silence on his comm line, after six minutes had passed apparently the assembled warships of the Federation had enough of their pot shots and began to return fire at their mobile suits. Their volleys tore into his position even as he forced his machine into a hard left banking maneuver to avoid their frantic anti ship fire, one good shot with those beam canons and his Zaku would simply evaporate under the fury of the intense energy discharge. _'Shit, shit, shit, shit!'_ The arrival of Federal reinforcements forced his own unit into beating a hasty retreat, they could reengage of course but they were low on ammunition, their reactor operating times were running low due to the constant hour after hour of combat that had led to this moment. "9th team, we are leaving this sector, head back to our lines." He heard the barks of disagreement and disregard for his command before he toggled his own comm line off, he wouldn't begrudge the men their anger. _'They will obey the order but they won't be happy about it.'_ This he already knew, even as he peeled off the course he had been silently cruising through in the aftermath of his avoidance of the Federal fire, as he keyed up his thruster pack further pushing him away from the strengthening Federal lines he knew that the men would be accompanying him.

After all it was ingrained procedure, soldiers were meant to follow orders above anything else, it was what they had been drilled and taught for years back in the academy but that couldn't bury their anger, their outrage...not entirely. His scopes registered the IFF signatures of his squadron reluctantly pulling off the Federal lines, the lines they had spent the past hour and a half trying to breach. _'All for nothing, all the time and energy we spent and all we ended up accomplishing was sinking another six Salamis.'_ Worthless.

They had a single one moment, a brief window of opportunity and it was now gone, he didn't blame his team for being pissed off about it, they had the possibility for final victory, instead this merely was yet another skirmish. The Federation ships they had sunk to this point were meaningless compared to that, those warships could and would be replaced, but striking at the Federation colonies was a opportunity that they would have to bleed and die for yet again to even come close to approaching the chance they had lost today.

This one instance in history where the war could have ended was now denied to them forever, he could only hope that they would be given a second chance in the future.

* * *

 **January 9th**

 **MS-06C Zaku II, 800,000 Kilometers from Side One, Zeon Lines**

 **1800 Hours**

"All forces are ordered to standby and await retasking, do not engage the enemy, I repeat do not engage enemy and wait for retasking by Admiral Dozle." What the hell was this about? For the past two days it had been a repeat of the opening skirmishes and battles that he had seen since coming to Side One, they in that time had inflicted considerable losses for the Federation, losses that outstripped their own severely, despite his own misgivings and the sheer numeric superiority of the Federation they were beginning to break through but he had heard of no new operation in the works. _'Yet I doubt Dozle would be retasking a entire sector group just for another push at Side One, what is this?'_ That question bit at him deeply, he didn't consider himself a stupid man and yet he could draw at nothing to point at what the Admiral may be planning here and now.

He knew this conflict was going nowhere fast and he knew that Dozle and all the other commanders here would be under increasing pressure to see a victory emerge here but what could they be planning? What could the new game plan be? This was of course one of the problems with not being a senior officer, he had no idea what the higher ups were thinking, he had no evidence or even speculation to base anything sort of theory off of, he could only await whatever orders came his way. "All forces, patch into military channel 17 for a urgent message from Admiral Dozle." Acknowledging the order he flipped his communication array to the designated channel and awaited in silence for a moment before the familiar and brusque voice of the Zeon fleet admiral came to his ear.

"Soldiers of Zeon, I know you have all fought long and hard to break the lines of Side One and it pains me greatly to see so many proud soldiers of our great nation to perish in this fighting but...that ends today. Today we will embark upon the greatest military operation in the history of Zeon, today we shall deliver a blow from which the Federation will never recover from, they thought to deny us our glory by stonewalling us here at Side One but we have come to our true objective finally, with the success of our campaign in Side Two we now have our ultimate tool of vindication."

What the hell is he talking about? What tool? What is Dozle thinking? "He's rallying us for a reason, but I can't think of a more pressing target then the one just across our lines." In the distance, tens of millions of kilometers away he saw the brief but all too familiar flash of what could only be explosions, what was going on in the other Sides at the moment? Why was Dozle speaking to them about it now? They had been blooding themselves against Federal lines for days, Dozle himself had gone into battle, their situation was apparent to all, they lacked the sheer numbers to engage the Federation effectively, the most they could do was match them with their mobile suit's superior mobility and firepower in comparison to their naval forces.

It was obvious the Federation was listening in, as they too seemed shocked still by the apparent cessation of combat, for the first time in days no battle was being waged here at Side One, both sides merely listened to the Zabi as he continued to press onward to his point finally, the plan became known. "With the very tool of our existence here in the cold and dead void of space we shall send the Federation a message they will never forget, a message of our fury, our pride and of our vengeance!" The approach of several incoming friendly IFF's pinged onto his radar mapping just as his limited scopes began to go haywire with a mass of encroaching vessels, dozens of Musai were entering into his scanner range, where had these reinforcements come from?

What had they been doing?

"Oh my god..." The outline of the massive outline of the familiar cylinder became apparent even by naked eye, without magnification he could make out the structuring of the colony, its rear booster units burning away the darkness of the void, he had never seen a colony move before, it was something mundane something that occurred all the time, for whatever reason be it a new placement allowing the creation of another colony in a Side or what have you but...there was something different about seeing that pure white flame burning free of its assorted thrusters, dozens of warships trailed along beside it, from Musai to Chivvay cruisers there was no lacking of protection for the valuable cargo of a colony in transit.

 _'Those weren't explosions, those were the primary engine clusters on the colony firing...'_ Wherever this colony had been appropriated from, it was obvious what it was to become. A ballistic projectile made of seventeen kilometers of steel, a nation in space, turned into a weapon of war _.'Their going to drop it on Earth...'_ it made sense, the Moon was a obvious target as well but a colony impacting it wouldn't have the sheer scope of shock and awe as it would on Earth itself, while they had been warring against the Federation in their capital of Space, the high command back in the homeland been plotting a way to strike at the home of the Federation itself.

 **Earth.**

"Dozle are you serious?" Was this some sort of joke? Dozens of bright neon green Zeon signal flares broke from the assembled warships, the flares reminded him of the Academy, the instruction he recieved on to interept to and read flare based messages, after all even before M particles communication in space had been difficult, now it would be almost impossible to ensure every single ship and suit received it, much simpler to merely have the incoming fleet signal using color and light based methods. Green was among the most common flare coloring, it meant that all friendly forces were to converge and prepare for battle. They were forming battle lines, no doubt every surviving squadron at Side One was going to be assigned to protect that colony while it moved in transit, even as its thruster gave out and it continued to sail lifelessly through the void of space, he knew that his gut had been right to a point. This war was going to end at Side One...just not because of Side One's destruction.

"Our Supreme Commander has already approved the operation and it is set to be undertaken in less then fourteen standard hours, we are reforming battle lines and through burst laser transmission all squadrons will be assigned placement in the new grid, today soldiers of Zeon we unleash hell upon all the Feddies. Today we show them the suffering of our people and their righteous fury! Today we prove that all the losses we have taken for freedom are not for nothing!" The message from the fleet commander cut out and left him alone with his thoughts but not for overly long as a single text document was received by his onboard OS inside seconds of its completion, opening the file he was finally given the details of what he had been seeking to learn since being placed upon active duty for the day, the reasoning for the lack of engagement, the lack of battle.

The answers were of little comfort.

" **Operation: British.** " He read aloud the title for the planned mission against the Federation, and within it he found all information he would ever need for it, all of the details that would never leave his memory. Never in his wildest dreams had he ever thought of such a thing to be done, despite his disdain for Earth, despite his hatred of the Federation this was different from a nuclear strike, this was different from shelling the planet or even using chemical or biological warfare to devastate its surface and population, this would be a planet altering event, he was no scientist but even he knew that this would shift the global climate, it would end species, it would blacken skies, it would possibly be a all life on Earth ending event, it could even kill the planet outright. _'Do I truly care? Am I just waxing melodramatic because this is beyond the scope of even my own act of mass death? Should I truly even be bothered by it? How many millions died for the sake of seizing that colony to begin with?'_ That was the truth of it he supposed, it was hypocritical to be horrified by the scope of this operation when in truth, to merely get it underway likely many more people had perished aboard the station then those who would die when it impacted Earth...directly anyway, he couldn't do the math to calculate deaths from environmental factors and other assorted changes across Earth, but even so would twenty million people dying truly bring this war to a close?

He had tried to use that thought as a shield against his own actions at Colony 13 but as his involvement in that colony gassing became more and more known as yet more ships from Side Two arrived at Side One, he had come to see the stares and scorn from his fellow Spacenoids, from his fellow warriors of Zeon. They looked at him as though he was a monster, as though he was some unthinking beast who lived only to kill his fellow man. _'Such a pathetic aegis, it falls apart when people look at you funny, when you hear them talking about you, when you see the contempt and hatred.'_ Apparently his own view on Spacenoids as a whole wasn't popular, many of the people of Side Three, apparently viewed all of their space dwelling kin as Spacenoids, and not merely the Federation, he didn't understand that. How could they judge him for his orders, his mandate when they would go out and butcher the Federation along with him, was he yet so different because he had lobbed a shell or two of G-3 into a single colony? He knew coming into that operation that history would judge him poorly, and not the men who fought at his side and yet even so...to experience it broke the camaraderie of the military he had become reliant upon.

Was all the respect he had gleaned over the years merely a facade to pull away when he was assigned missions that would kill people? Was that not the duty of a soldier? To kill the enemy? Then why? Why did he have reservations about this when it was merely stepping up their ambition, rather then to continue to butcher each other in the vacuum, Zeon would accelerate the end of this war by perhaps weeks and strike the fatal blow now while they still possessed the advantage. In fourteen hours that colony would enter into a irreversible orbit, it would strike the Earth, until the time came for that...he'd follow his orders and fight to defend it. He would trust in Dozle and Gihren and hope that the victory that came out of this act, was worth it.

It had to be worth it.

 **Operation British had begun.**

* * *

 **AN: Well there we have it folks! The lead up to British is complete! The historic battle that awaits Dieter will be presented in the next chapter, but before going on about that I would like to thank my second reviewer. Not only did** **Merela favorite and follow the story, but they also left a review, while I appreciate all forms of attention given to this story I must say that I am pleased most of all by reviews. Just as I said at the beginning though, lack of reviews wouldn't impact the way in which I updated the story, it only offers me additional encouragement, and as you can see that stood. I uploaded fairly regularly until chapter five when I received my second review and here we are at chapter six, I am not going lie and say that I don't want additional reviews but I will say that I do appreciate the people that take the time to actually speak of my story.**

 **After all do I not provide a narrative free of charge for all the people who enjoy it? Since I do not ask for compensation of any sort for allowing you all to view what I pour my energy and mind into, I enjoy when I receive something back, even if it is something minor like a review that expresses appreciation or thought on my story. Anyway, moving past my thanks and comments to Merala and all those who also read the story, I want to speak of one final thing before I wrap up this review.**

 **This is planned to be a fairly short narrative, when I went into it I thought along the lines of maybe fifteen or so chapters at most. After all this isn't the prolonged tale of the entire war through Dieter's eyes just its opening month, but that said now that I have given it thought I am wondering if I shouldn't make side stories of a sort for Soldier of Zeon, stories that detail the adventures and activities of those who have been and will be presented into the story, if you'd like that please leave your thoughts in a review.**

 **Anyway in closing please remember to follow, favorite and review.**

 **Until next time.**

 **-Reborn Akatsuki**


	7. Operation: British

**AN: Well here is Chapter Seven in this little story, I hope you enjoyed the lead up to this moment because I must say I worked quite hard on making this chapter just right. I need to actually give it a fair amount of thought on just how I was going to give the appropriate feel to it, I mean in even in the scope of UC which is filled with truly momentous occasions and events, this stands out to my eye because it was the first colony drop on Earth in a line of them.**

 **This chapter was a good for me to write as it basically marks the halfway point to the story and opens up its second act in the aftermath of Operation British. This will pave the way to the conclusion and I just want to say this now, its going to be a hell of a ride and I hope a enjoyable one for all involved.**

 **Anyway let's get straight to it.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam although I wouldn't be opposed to actually being involved with it to a certain degree but until that day, I own nothing and claim ownership of nothing save my own original characters so don't sue me Bandai.**

* * *

 **January 9th, 0079**

 **Zeon Battle Group, in transit with colony**

 **2000 Hours**

The Federation was throwing everything they had them, for days they had been butchering each other without pause but it had been a point to point engagement. They would attack the Federal lines and the Federation would try to repulse them, they would inflict casualties and take losses, it became routine, clockwork but this-this was something else. The Federation was desperate now, they knew what would happen if that colony struck Earth, they had abandoned Side One's defense almost entirely to focus on engaging the colony, unfortunately for them however along with the incoming Musai from Side Two they had also brought fresh compliments of Zaku teams. They now had almost a hundred deployed solely for the completion of operation British. _'The offensive is now once again ours in earnest.'_ Truth be told, despite his initial horror at the sheer scope of the planned colony drop, he could respect it's intent. No longer would they senselessly sacrifice entire battle groups just for initial breaches in Federal lines, no longer would they fight the attrition based warfare that overly favored the Federation, they would resume the war on terms that benefited only them.

Explosions dominated all that he could see, from the engaging Federal warships and fighter craft to their own return fire from Zaku or Musai, the once streamlined and orderly engagements and broken down into a free for all, countless people on either side were dying right now, he knew that. With every ship lost, people lost mothers, fathers or children. Yet it was proving to be far more effective then them simply bludgeoning away at the Federation ineffectively day after day. Hell even if they weren't going to drop the colony, if this was merely a bluff he would have condoned the strategy, the Federation were reckless in their assaults, they often didn't even have screening fire or any protection on their flanks, their fleet was being decimated far more decisively then any day prior to this. _'They are desperate and stupid now, until now we had no real method of trying to draw them into this type of battle.'_ Entire lines of warships disappeared inside nuclear haze courtesy of Zaku type 98 nuclear shells, they'd be replaced near instantly of course just due to the sheer make up of the fleet but even so...the damage was mounting for the Federation.

Even with their massive military force he wasn't sure if the Federation could recover from its losses today, if they lost the majority of their defense fleet in battle trying to abort the colony drop, then even their surviving military wouldn't offer up anywhere near as stiff resistance as could have been otherwise. In just a handful of hours since the operation had begun, cracks were already becoming evident, it didn't matter how many ships they had to offer when they just charged blindly into scope. It almost made him regret that he wasn't part of the battle itself, with his squad assigned to the defense force, he wouldn't see any real combat until they actually got far closer to Earth. He knew that the Federation was mustering everything it had left to stop them, they had to, and with the forces at Side One offering nothing that could even slow them, they only continued forward, killing as they went.

A squadron of Saberfish broke through their defensive firing screen, the craft were obviously not in the best of shape, even from thousands of kilometers away he could make out structural damage to most of them, a few were even venting smoke into the vacuum, but they continued onward on course. Guns firing into the wall of ships and Zaku that awaited, the situation of prior days was now reversed, now they had to penetrate their defenses and were getting torn to shreds trying to. His machine raised upward its 120mm, readouts confirming that he had a full magazine's worth of ammunition, he waited a heartbeat before sending a dozen or so rounds into the vacuum, as expected they didn't impact from such extreme range but even so they did have another desired effect as his own fire prompted bursts of rocket and machine gun fire from his entire squadron that unleashed hell for the pilots. Of the twelve Saberfish that breached their defensive screen initially, only seven lasted longer then thirty seconds in that firestorm, and for those survivors, there would be no escape as a squadron of their own Gobble fighter craft broke through the zone, likely from their rear screen to intercept them.

Hemmed in and under fire from multiple directions, those brave but foolish Feddie pilots didn't last another minute, one by one their ships were consumed by oncoming missiles and machine gun fire, tiny pin pricks of light marked where each and everyone of them met their end in this cold lifeless void of space.

Through the monitors of his Zaku he saw the shrinking image of the Federal colonies at Side One, he was happy he was leaving that conflict zone, too many of their soldiers had died there pointlessly, they had inflicted considerable if just inconsequential damage against the Federation before the start of British. This operation however would be different, he could feel it in his bones, with this operation they would end the war.

It was just: How many times had he thought the same thing before?

* * *

 **January 10th , 0079**

 **Musai Light Cruiser: Wrath, Zeon Battle Group in transit with the colony**

 **0500 Hours**

The planet grew ever closer with every passing moment, the Federation was still sending a seemingly never ending wave of forces at them but their own defensive screens were ripping them apart before they even got to his line. This gave him time to think of the magnitude of what was about to occur in but a handful of hours. The asteroid that had wiped out the ancient reptile species of Earth eons ago had been smaller then this colony that was now on a direct collision with the planet, what would the effects be when this touched down? According to the briefing he had come to understand the target for the strike was in fact South America, the location of their General Headquarters at Jaburo. That entire continent would be set ablaze by the impact no doubt, hundreds of thousands if not millions would die instantly, but the Federation would be headless and would not doubt sue for peace, this would be a far greater blow then even destroying the seat of their parliament in space, it would decapitate their military arm and obliterate their morale.

As for the planet itself? He had nothing but guesses, he suspected that if the entire colony struck ground it would completely shift the global climate, perhaps even leading to a global extinction event, the planet would become a lifeless husk. Yet Zeon would be victorious and humanity would preserve in space even without their ancestral homeland. Explosions erupted off far side of the colony as its thrusters ignited to preform needed course corrections to steer the massive projectile true, he could only guess at the precision required for this task, to guide such a large object through space must have been a monumental undertaking in and of itself. Soon enough they would all see if those calculations proved worthwhile or not, while the pursuing forces from Side One continued to try to harry them his own focus was directed towards the distant planet.

The Federation had to be preparing some final defense, some effort to safeguard the planet before the colony reached a point of no return, that was what he and his fellows were awaiting. They had to be, it was what they would do, if Side Three was to come under assault every effort would be made to protect it, even while their own forces tried to slow if not stop the threat, their primary forces would be gathering strength to meet it. He eyed the various gauges and meters that ran across his suit's control boards to check on its status. So far he had a sufficient amount of oxygen aboard his suit, his reactor was holding up fine, all the electronics seemed to be working adequately all in all his suit was merely awaiting a battle to come to it, so far he hadn't fired his weapon but a handful of time, he hadn't scored any direct kills but none the less he would be ready if they did come his way.

 _'Can't break formation from the colony.'_ That thought rang out within his mind above all others, those were his rules of engagement for his operation, he and his squadron were a part of the frontal defensive screen to ward off any Federal craft that were fast enough or crazy enough to try for a frontal charge against their lines. That was all they were charged with doing until the situation changed, and it wouldn't change with the Federation Fleet now solely to the back of the colony engaging their rear lines charged with defending the vulnerable thruster modules and their sole means of guiding this colony into its target. He could only wish those men and women the best, digging into his normal suit and retrieving the antique flint lighter from its place in his suit's pouch he flicked the device open gently with his gloved hands.

Was he nervous before what awaited them at Earth? They were less then a quarter million standard miles out from the colony and as they reached the defensive forces that were no doubt streaming from Luna and the planet itself would they be running into the grinder head first? He had heard that Zeon forces had been assaulting the moon earlier in the week, he could only hope that enough of the lunar cities had fallen that the Federation couldn't dispatch its entire force stationed within the Earth Sphere at them. He ran his finger across the cog wheel, and a faint flame escaped the lighter before he snapped the thing closed. He let out a weary breath into his pressurized helmet, he had grown increasingly frustrated with the attritional warfare of Side One, but while this was proving different would it be better? They had inflicted numerous losses to the pursing Federal forces but with there still much distance to be covered until the colony reached Earth would it actually be enough?

That was their only goal here, to succeed in dropping this creation of man on to the home of mankind, this near twenty kilometer space colony would become the instrument of the wrath of Spacenoids against the Federation. The lifeblood of space colonization would become the ultimate weapon of liberation, it would erase the stain of the Federation on Earth, in that victory he could believe in. With this colony they could end the Federation and the war in one fell stroke, there would be no need for a lengthy followup campaign or additional war, with the loss of their General Headquarters they would be easy prey, if this colony struck true this war would end before January was out.

With this colony the Federation would truly be landed a blow that they could not in any reasonable circumstance recover, if it struck true.

If it made it at all.

* * *

 **January 10th, 0079**

 **Zeon Battle Group in transit with the colony**

 **0600 Hours**

They were nearing the end, the colony had reached its final flight path, with it caught within the Earth's own gravity well nothing could stop its descent now. Yet even so that wasn't the conclusion the Federation obviously wanted, the forces from Side One had finally broken off mere minutes ago and now he understood why, as he suspected they had merely been there to harry them and try to break through and inflict damage on the colony only if possible. Their real defensive efforts now stood before, awaiting the inevitable clash. Against a literal sea of blue and white, of Earth were hundreds of Federal ships clinging loosely in a defensive stance.

Their final line, the final obstacle to overcome for British to succeed. The moment he had been awaiting, with a enemy directly before them, he would no doubt be given clearance to engage and he would finally be able to directly confront the attackers that had been plaguing them since the inception of this operation. He toggled his commline, he would have his squadron prepare to engage the moment that they were allowed to, no longer would he be reliant upon the protection and abilities of others, again his life would be solely within his own hands. "9th squadron, prepare to engage, that Feddie fleet no doubt isn't keen on the idea of the colony hitting Earth." He awaited confirmation for his order as he ran the diagnostics on his suit, he hadn't been pushing his Zaku all that hard today, but it had only minor maintenance and resupply for the prior twenty four hours, he could only hope that whatever he needed to do wouldn't require pushing his machine to the limit.

He doubted that it could handle it in its current state, his reactor readout was fine but the helium-3 levels would begin to drop dramatically once he began pushing the machine to combat readiness and operational requirements. "Rodger that sir, I have to admit I was starting to think that this would end without us even having to face the Feddies." Ensign Rinton's carefree and casual tone entered into his earpiece and caused him to let out a rueful bark of laughter. "I could have told you that shit would never happen, anyway we are going to do this by the book once we get leave to engage, watch your sectors, keep your back clear and make sure to kill anything before it can take more then a few shots." Their mobile suits possessed the mobility and speed advantage when compared to the standard bulk of Federation forces save perhaps their Saberfish, they could outperform any battleship and get around to it's flanks before its own fire could reach them, and end the engagement before it even truly started.

"All forces assigned to the frontal defense grid, prepare to engage, we have to ensure that the colony makes it through, these orders are coming directly from Vice Admiral Dozle." He didn't recognize the formal tone of the officer who was speaking, but he knew that what he had been expecting had finally come to pass. They were getting unleashed to defend their valuable cargo. He began to key up the various warm up sequences for his reactor, he hadn't been drawing all that much power, just enough to ensure that his machine could keep up with the relatively slow moving colony and had power enough to run its sensor and communications suite. Now he would need even more power to draw from, using a mobile suit in battle was taxing on every component within it but thankfully the Zaku II was a tried and tested model, he wouldn't be drifting powerless after this battle, no today they would were going to ensure that this colony struck true.

Perhaps even end the war.

He eyed the displacement of the forces that were being sent against them, it was mostly compromised of cruisers with a few battleships and carriers allocated to each battlegroup, it was a defensive screen, they were holding position and not advancing, they knew that the colony would be going past them if it was going to hit. No more reckless suicidal charges, no more easy kills. Of course it would end this when just when he was getting his own turn to take part in this historic struggle.

This was going to be a battle.

Throughout their battle lines dozens of mobile suits much the same as his own prepared for the coming combat. Throughout their squadrons individual pilots readied themselves: To kill, to die and to serve their nation. Dieter Kries was no exception to this. Hands taking their place on the familiar controls, fingers finding where they usually rested, he composed his resolve. This would be another test of his devotion, ability and resolve.

He would soon see if he was ready to live up to the expectations given to him for this groundbreaking undertaking.

He knew he would have to be.

* * *

 **January 10th, 0079**

 **Zeon Battle Group, in transit with the colony**

 **0800 Hours**

The bridge of the Salamis erupted outward pelting his armored Zaku's chassis and outward camera's in flame and debris as the ship shuddered and broke apart in the high atmosphere of the Earth. His Machine gun continued to put rounds into the doomed ship but its main guns continued firing. The Federal crews were devoted he would give them that, the turrets continued to track the colony even as it trailed by them. High intensity beam bursts and conventional shells were launched with little time between them, they were like every Feddie ship here, there was no objective beyond stopping this thing until it hit Earth...Of course that was a impossibility now, it had entered final descent, it would make ground fall within the hour and there was no stopping that now. The Salamis finally acknowledged its defeat as it sputtered outward, its final salvo directed again at the colony as its own anti air batteries continued to fire at him, forcing him to bank around the ship as it entered its final death throes and exploded in a brilliant spectacle of light, fire and steel.

"Keep up the pressure team, we have to keep these bastards distracted!" He growled into the comm as he veered his suit upward to avoid a hail of anti air fire from yet another Salamis, they weren't worth concentrating any major fire on, so even as they laid in and destroyed their lines all the Feddies seemed concerned with was stopping the colony. Even as fire from dozens of ships slammed into it, beams burning through plate and hull, shells exploding against the thick armoring it continued on course. It didn't matter how much fire they rained down upon the colony, even as its outer surface became pock marked and warped from innumerable strikes against it, the colony sailed onward oblivious to the damage its structural frame took. Having his machine stall mid ascent as he had it reload the drummed magazine for his 120mm he noted its approach it was probably less then twenty minutes out from impact, its orbit was growing increasingly unstable as it fought to counteract against the forces of Earth's own gravity well, with the angle they had been using,it had been aimed solely at South America.

It would strike where they deemed it needed, not gravity.

It's final thruster sequence keyed up and he was blinded for a moment as its engine clusters fired a piercing white blast of force and flame. His monitors likewise seemingly shut themselves down to avoid damage from the high output of light, only to slowly reactivate themselves seconds later as the final course correction ended, it was going to hit Jaburo nothing the Federation could do would effect it now. Trapped within the Earth's gravity well, and under effect from the planet itself, the only thing they needed to actually account for was ensuring that it struck where it needed to land.

Pushing forward with his suit in pursuit of the colony was simple enough, he would avoid straying to far into the range of the Earth's Atmosphere but against the sleek metallic hull of the artificial habitat he would continue to wage Zeon's war for freedom. Letting loose with controlled burst of fire from his 120mm machine gun, as he charged forward he saw the rounds harmlessly slam into the armored plating of a Columbus carrier even as it continued to disgorge fighter craft, its surrounding protective cordon of warships let loose with their own anti air fire as he forced his machine into a steep descent. _'We have to hold out a little bit longer, their lines are weakening, they aren't really inflicting any real damage, we can do this!'_ They could do this, they had to do this, today the Federation know the truth.

Zeon was going to win this war, they would do anything to ensure that.

Fighting onward into that great void with the backdrop being Earth itself put perspective on the scale of their war and what they were fighting against-for decade the Federation had the entire human race under it's thumb. No one had risen to challenge it or its authority in that time, it wasn't until Deikun, Degwin and Gihren had someone finally had enough of their bumbling greed, corruption and ill intent for this struggle to be launched, so far the sacrifices had been high, they had lost many good people in just a little under a week but they fought for freedom. Not only their own but for their entire species, it was only natural that evolution would dictate the course of history, not base greed and desire.

As the colony began to glow with the fire of both the Federation's attacks and the very atmosphere of Earth he held his breath as he beheld the spectacle, it was both at the same time beautiful and for some reason saddening. This home of millions had become a blunt instrument to slay the beast that was the Federation, the end for those who had perished aboard when the colony had been seized had been tragic but in the aftermath of this operation-that sacrifice would not be in vain. The millions of lives snuffed out would herald a new age for all of humanity, a era of freedom and prosperity ushered in by the fall of the government that sought to control the fate of their entire species at the behest of the greed of the few.

Zeon would become the liberators of humanity itself.

And he would have played a part in that, it was something...if something that noble could occur out of all this death and loss, then perhaps even his own deeds and actions would be warranted. He had simply followed his orders, he had done as instructed and ended millions of lives with the press of a trigger and yet even so he had doubts of that, of himself but today. Those doubts would die along with the Federation, this streaking comet of their fury and wrath would become the justification of Zeon's justice.

The Federation continued their bombardment, even as they tore into their ships, ended their existences, they continued to fight to protect their home. Their own lives becoming the shield of all who dwelt below, he could respect that, in this one instance, the Federation became a foe worthy of respect, he could understand giving up everything for those you were sworn to protect, never the less it was his own duty to allow the colony to drop. So he continued to fight and fight, even as the Federation unleashed waves of beam and cannon fire, as they unleashed swarms of missiles that ate into the colonies hull, debris and shrapnel blew off the artificial habit, blow after blow combined with the intense heat and pressure of atmosphere burned into the structure but it was holding together.

The Federation could not stop this. Could not stop Zeon. However it was then that he heard the frantic shouts into the commline, toggling it with his gloved hand he heard something that made his stomach lurch within him. It appeared on his radar less then five seconds later, swarms of missiles launched forward, however within his Zaku he knew this was different, veering his machine forward at as fast as the newest model of suit could carry him he prepare to intercept. He gave orders to destroy the vessels that had launched the strike but even then he knew that it was too late, to get in front of the massive colony would take far too long, he would have no time to strike at individual missiles, little lone stop the swarm.

Before he even had made it more then a few hundred meters, dozens of second suns were born in the space of seconds, even as he reversed thrust as rapidly as he could he knew the blast wave or at least a portion of it would impact him. The front of the colony seemed to just evaporate in the space of seconds, billions of tons of steel and what had once been a home to millions crumbled inward as it was ate by fire and wrath, the thick plating of the colony never designed to survive contact with but a single nuclear weapon, under the power of dozens glowed bright crimson as it melted away. Explosions rocked off the colony, its axis shifting, as it shuddered under continued impact, his own Zaku was buried underneath waves of wreckage, debris and hot dust. His machine rocked as it was caught in a torrent, his multiton war machine batted aside as if it was a child's toy was flung back as the colony continued to descend, however it was now minus its frontward half.

"Lt!" He heard Rinton's panicked cries as he rattled within the restraints of his cockpit and struggled to get his machine under control, if not for his preemptive evasion, no doubt he would have been buried underneath the colony as it shifted direction and would now be dead. Even so his status board read damage to several auxiliary systems and even a few secondary cameras, no permanent damage but something that would keep his Zaku from being combat worthy for at least the better part of a day, assuming they could even find the parts to replace and repair the damaged components.

Ripping his helmet free of his shoulders as he wiped his forehead free of the sweat that had been basting upon it for the better part of the last hour. He supposed it would be good of him to inform his squadron that he was still alive hour, he still heard the frantic hails from Rinton, he keyed the reply button his terminal before speaking into the mouthpiece that hung across his face.

"Yeah I'm alive Ensign, don't worry..." He trailed off as he saw that he had bitten into his lip, blood trailed downward from his chin staining his normal suit.

"Lt, I'm glad you..." The Ensign was cut off or cut himself off, he didn't which even he glanced outward at the primary monitor, his camera projected a static ridden and hazy feed but he could make out what had stunned the Ensign.

The colony was still descending, it just was now severely off course.

It wouldn't hit Jaburo, even as it fell to Earth and his commanders, and superiors cursed at the brilliance of their gambit failing, he couldn't look away from the sight of that colony descending downward to Earth wreathed in flame.

* * *

 **January 10th, 0079**

 **Zeon Battle Group, Gwazine class battle ship: Gwadan**

 **Officer Dormitories, Assigned Quarters to Dieter Kries**

 **0900**

He heard the automatic lock of the door disengage even as it slid open. He figured this was coming, maybe it was Delaz coming to relieve him of his duties, he couldn't hide the fact that he was disturbed by the failure of British. That it had struck something within him deeply, even as the colony had fallen upon Sydney

"Hey Lt, I know you have a lot on your mind now but..." His eyes drifted upward sluggishly, no doubt if they weren't stationed with the fleet, he'd be drowning his sorrows at a little bar somewhere. As it stood the only thing that lay between him and lack of sobriety was the glaring lack of alcohol, even aboard the ship mess, such things were prohibited and it wasn't as if he smuggled any aboard when he had been transferred to the Gwadan. _'Like a second sun descending to Earth.'_ the plumet of the forward section of the colony as it broke up in orbit still resonated within his mind, he had tried to bury that image. As nuclear fire ate away at the outer plating and armoring of the habitat, as it shattered and broke up, all their hopes had been resting on it striking true.

Now a city of millions was wiped from existence, another mass grave, did he mourn for the Federation or simply for their failure? He no longer was entirely sure himself. He considered himself a practical man, a devoted man, but in the face of such a awe inspiring sight as seeing what could have very well as easily his home colony of Zum City destroyed utterly in nuclear blasts that sheered kilometers of steel apart as if it was nothing but rice paper. How was someone supposed to react to that? Colony 13 had been nothing but a test of his own morality, his own devotion to Zeon...with this _failure_ , regardless of how many enemy ships he had sunk, could they even win this war?

If their best shot at a knock out victory was so easily denied to them by the sheer sacrifice of the enemy, then how could they? How many thousands died to ensure that colony missed its target? The Federation fleets were decimated but still outnumbered their own immeasurably, simple mathematics told him the same as what the situation around them did. _'Unless if we make up for our lack of numbers, we are going to fail.'_ Yet the question of how wasn't something he could answer, not by himself.

Shaking those thoughts from his head, he refocused on the Ensign who still stood before him in his standard uniform, his own form likely resembled his wingman's disheveled and unmaintained. He had come straight from the hangar to his quarters, never stopping to eat or clean himself of the filth and grime that decorated his body from the prior day. _'How long as it been since I slept?'_ At the very least most of a standard day, he had been operating his Zaku for the better part of seventeen standard hours, his own breaks had been when he had to reboard the ship for it to be rearmed and restocked. He hadn't complained or faulted it though, he had gone out and fought, and fought and in the end all that awaited him for such tribulation was failure.

 _'If I had been just a second or two faster could I have stopped at least one of those missile from impacting? Would the war really have ended, if I had?'_ He had no answers, there was no offered recompense. He had trained for this war, prepared for it, **yearned** for it perhaps on some level and yet...nothing he had accomplished in training simulators, nothing he had done in the prior battles had hardened him for watching that colony break up on orbit, watching its fiery remains accelerate downward off course to snuff out millions of lives. _'Does that make me a hypocrite? To care that random people were killed there and not at Colony 13? Aren't they all just Feddies?'_ Finally steeling himself and marshalling enough of his thoughts to actually vocalize a reply, he spoke to the Ensign.

"Rinton, this important? I really would rather be alone with my thoughts now." Wasn't that the truth? He had to sort this out, make some sense of it, if for nothing else then his own damn sanity. He still felt numbed to everything, and that wasn't helped by the fact that he was rather then lying upon the bed in his cubical, rather just leaning against the wall of it. He knew that once the numbness wore off, his back would be killing him tomorrow, but that was a concern for then, not now.

"Apologies sir, but you have a retasking ordered by Rear Admiral Kycilia herself." Retasking? He wasn't even assigned to her to begin with and yet she was requesting him? This was practically unheard of in the prewar military. He was assigned to a completely separate branch of service, he answered to Vice Admiral Dozle, not his sister, and yet what was he do? Deny the transfer? Risk the wrath of that masked woman and her cutthroat tactics? As much controversy seemingly surrounded that woman as Delaz, and she likely had just as many bodies stashed away, he would be a moron to do anything but accept the request, yet even so it left him puzzled.

"What." What could be Kycilia's goal here? He knew she commanded a test group, that applied new technology and tactics to employed by the regular military, but he was not a instructor despite his brief tenure at the Academy, he knew only one craft that he had truly made his own and that was piloting. He was not a teacher, but who was he know the mind of another, little lone that of a Admiral? A Zabi?

"Rear Admiral Kycilia is apparently forming some sort of _new_ unit, she wants you for it. The rest of the details are in the briefing." He offered a sealed transcript, he eyed it briefly before taking it into his hand, his limbs felt leaden but he focused himself and glanced at the seal. It was legitimate, the sigil of Deikun interlocked with the crown, the seal of the Zabi family, it sent his mind reeling a million miles a minute. _New unit_? What sort of new unit? What would he tasked with doing? With the failure of British, no doubt the war would return to the attrition based sieges of its prior days, no wonder Delaz would be upset by his departure. Surely he would need every veteran pilot he could muster, to be denied a single one would in all likelihood reduce the 9th's combat effectiveness dramatically. It wasn't however if the unit was made of ranking novices straight out of the Academy, they simply would be absent a CO, that could be rectified merely by a infield promotion.

All he was after all was a single pilot, despite his acclaim, and skill he wasn't so truly critical that they would fail by default with his absence. He may have had a higher kill count then any one of them, but they were a solid team before his arrival and they would be a solid team after his departure. Tet even so he had grown fond of these men, despite the brief time he had served with them he had come to trust in their effectiveness, their devotion and skill. Now he was being cast off to join with people he in all likelihood had never even met before, to be forced to adapt to yet another chain of command, of regulations and policy, the life of a soldier was never promised to be a easy one and yet even still how much was he supposed to accept for the sake of his pledge of devotion?

He knew he should feel honored, he was likely being recognized for his abilities, something he had yearned for, with recognition came acclaim and the attention of those infinitely more powerful then himself, but still...just when he was still to feel at home aboard the Gwaden, that this was where he needed to be, this transfer came out of the light and inversed everything.

"You already looked?" He once again looked over the transcript, the envelope appeared to be untampered with, with its still locked neatly into place, and yet apparently Rinton already knew what was within it.

"No, but I did hear the argument between Kycilia and Delaz from half across the ship." That was unsurprisingly the Zeon military was divided between internal rivalries that fell back to the Zabi family, each member of the distinguished Zeon house held some authority within the military be they Gihren, Dozle, Kycilia or Garma. The most notable and heated rivalries however stemmed from the Gihren and Kycilia camp, followed closely by the Dozle and Kycilia camp, Garma apparently wasn't important enough to warrant his own feud or perhaps he was still too young to truly grasp the politics of military life. Regardless it would be no mistake to say that Kycilia and Delaz shared a mutual loathing for each other, but none the less she did outrank him, even if he held the ear of the Supreme Commander himself.

"Lady Kycilia is aboard?" No doubt Rear Admiral Kycilia's presence on the Gwadan would be a affront to every member of Dozle's Space Attack Force but none the less as a member of the Admiralty, and a Zabi she could more or less travel as she pleased.

"No, through vid screen." She probably isn't in this sector of space then, maybe she's at the Moon with her brother? He he heard of a operation that was going underway to seize the Lunar Cities that was being headed by Captain Garma but that was mere hearsay, but the fact that Kycilia wasn't at the front here at this theater did leave him puzzled. Dozle had things well in hand, but the arrival of Kycilia's own force would certainly be a boon to their own efforts, but that wasn't happening, it left him wondering about the state of the war as a whole, while he was merely a single piece, a pawn, a cog in a machine far more then any one person. He couldn't help but ponder at just what the Zabi's and admiralty were playing at here.

"Ah." At the very least however Kycilia was trying to play this tactful, but he knew that Delaz quite frankly wouldn't care. The bad blood between them was likely compounded by the rivalry that not only existed between Kycilia and Gihren, but also Kycilia and Dozle, both of whom Delaz seemed to serve under without reservation, Kycilia's presence, and her request would not be greeted warmly, that much was obvious.

"Never thought I'd see the day when a mere Captain spoke that... _frankly_ with a Zabi." He merely let a slight shrug rock his frame. _'I am not surprised Delaz has little to fear, he makes people disappear, he does not disappear.'_ That was the truth of the matter as he saw it. Captain Delaz had faithfully served under the eldest Zabi child and heir to Zeon for years and his position and authority reflected that, beyond his own skills and abilities when it came to leadership and command, he was also a devoted servant. He was rewarded for that, he supposed he couldn't begrudge Delaz for his views of Kycilia, he was involved much higher in the hierarchy of the Zeon military then himself.

Those politics that he often did not concern himself with likely directly effected Delaz.

"Delaz as far from a mere average officer as you can get. He's in close with Gihren Zabi, he may as well be a Admiral." He spoke nothing but the truth there, and the Ensign seemed to well know as the topic was shifted once again back to his apparent departure. There would be no contestation, if Kycilia wanted him...regardless of the rivalries and issues she had with her brothers, as a superior officer he would answer he call and go. He could only hope that what he left for was not worse then what he was leaving for.

"Yeah, well anyway its sort of shitty that you will be leaving just when the 9th was actually starting to get back to normal." He had come into this unit less then a standard week ago and yet he couldn't dismiss what Rinton said casually. They had fought together, in battle after battle from the outskirts and fields of wreckage at Side One all the way to the outer atmosphere of Earth here. The 9th may as well have become the unit he had been initially assigned onto, but it didn't matter, whatever his feelings on the issue were...he had his orders.

And it was not like he could overturn a decision by a Admiral regardless. Yet even so that did not mean that blow did not hurt, far from it. Unlike his initial posting on the Zeal back at the start of the war, his station here at the Gwadan had almost felt...normal. Perhaps because he had been shifted from ship to ship every few days prior to the outbreak of the war, him finally having a true place on a ship gave him stability, stability that was now lost. Yet even so he would have to make do, no doubt wherever he was going, he would not be getting a desk job. He gave Rinton a frank smile as pushed off the bunk, his weary limbs and groaned and creaked after they moved about in the aftermath of his immobility for several hours.

"Yeah, this was starting to feel like a regular old pre war unit, not one I was assigned to by necessity." That was the truth wasn't it? Before this war he had many stations, with many crews but in that near decade of service most had been a posting of months if not longer...to date this was his longest posting after the outbreak of war, not even a week and he was moving on. Was this the pacing of the war to be fought? He supposed it would do to prevent him from growing overly attached to his squadmates and superiors, after all during a war they could all die at any single moment.

"Well, what can you do? If I am being retasked I will go." He had grown close to this unit, fought alongside them through battle after battle and had come to trust each and everyone of them with his life but such as life in the military. His skills were now needed elsewhere and there was naught he could do except deny the transfer and risk offending perhaps the third most powerful figure in the Zeon military.

"Yeah, I hear you. No use complaining or whining, we just have to go with the flow." Rinton's tone was forced but he met his gaze evenly and gave a small nod. These pilots would do fine without him there, he knew that. They were all skilled and brave, he knew that they could accomplish great things if just given the chance to, but even so he would miss leading them into battle, after all if he was being assigned to a new squadron under Kycilia it likely meant that she'd have one of her own officers in charge.

Another of her toady's or pets.

"Pretty much, yeah." He replied as he outstretched his hand, he stank of sweat, grease, and stale air but he would at the very least show his respect to one of the pilots he had come to look to as a brother in arms-fresh out of the academy or not. He respected Rinton, he respected all of his now... _former_ unit he supposed but that chapter of his life was closed and there was no reopening it.

"You are requested aboard the _Argus_ in two standard hours for redeployment. A shuttle should be in route to the Gwadan shortly." Rinton didn't make an effort to reach for his hand, he simply eyed him with casual disinterest and spoke frankly and uniformly as he delivered his timetable. He almost expected Rinton to be actually angry at him until he saw his squadmate's lip quirk upward as he reached out gripped his hand firmly.

Rinton had a good grip, as he squeezed into the other man's palm for a second he gave a good shake before pulling his own free.

"Yeah, thanks Rinton." He didn't know if he would ever see his former squadmate or any of his former squad ever again, it could happen he supposed but on the other hand they could all die in battle tomorrow. A life at war promised no guarantees of anything, little lone survival.

"My pleasure sir, it was good serving with you." He forced himself to smile a little, he gave a brief nod before he eyed the envelope before pulling it open. At the very least he could know what exactly this was about before disembarking the Gwadan. However that train of thought ended near as soon as it began, within was merely a request of transfer, of him to the command of Rear Admiral Kycilia, it was signed by Captain Delaz and bore transport passage to the Mobile Attack Group Cruiser: Argus.

He knew nothing except when he was to leave, and where he was to go.

Everything else would have to remain a mystery until Kycilia deemed otherwise.

* * *

 **January 10, 0079**

 **Zeon Battle Group,** **Tivvay** **Cruiser: Argus**

 **1100 Hours**

The briefing room was silent as he entered it and took his seat alongside those who would presumably be serving with him in this new unit , going into the briefing he had no expectations, no insight into what this could be about. He could only hope that Admiral Kycilia would enlighten them all, the chamber stank of sweat and grease but he ignored those minor distractions, no doubt many of these men had been pulled directly from combat related roles just as he had mere hours before. He eyed the collection of men, they were a diverse group, but none of them truly stood out to him, a few bore the emblems of officers but mostly the assembled five of them were clearly just recent graduates from the Academy, mere Ensigns.

One of the esigns was a large and tall man, who bore a the striking visage of the the Indo European colonies of Side Three, another looked as if he was of the same European stock as himself, likely hailing from Zum City, or another colony in that cluster, yet more looked as if they came from colonies he could only guess at, the genetic and racial diversity of the colonies was something of a image of pride among Spacenoids of Zeon, they came from all different portions of the homeland of mankind and yet they found unity and perfection when they joined together into a singular government. It appeared that apart from the two Ensigns and a Petty Officer, the remaining odd man out was like him a full Lieutenant. He eyed his counterpart for a moment, he had striking blond hair and blue eyes, his features were aristocratic and bore a air of regality about them. A stark contrast to his own rather more common brown hair and hazel eyes that were the stock standard of most Spacenoids.

He supposed he should be happy, that he would have some seniority in the group but truth be told, he had no idea why he was here. He was a combat pilot not a operations director, he put together battle plans for squadrons to engage the enemy with, but he had never put together entire operations. Not since the Academy anyway and that had all be simulations and drills, he could only hope that whatever they were called upon to do wouldn't require him to employ that particular skill overly, he could adapt, think on the fly, but he was unused to putting together entire battle plans. Thankfully there were other officers here, who could no doubt assist him with that task, one of the men even bore the rank insignia of a full Captain, now that was unexpected.

Clearly whomever this man was, was now to be his direct superior within the task group.

The atmosphere in the room was tense, the Admiral had yet to arrive and yet none of them broke the ice, the silence prevailed within the room for a seeming eternity before the the video screen on the far wall crackled with sudden static breaking them all from their introspection and tension. The hazy image of the transmission seemed to clear up slightly before the familiar image of the masked Zabi appeared upon it, in unison they all rose from their seats and saluted the appearance of the Zabi.

The static ridden image seemed to merely gaze at them as the jumbled collection of pixels cleared themselves up over the space of a few seconds, and then the Zabi spoke. Her tone was cold, authoritarian and brooked no argument.

"At ease gentlemen, you may be seated and we will begin." Once again in usion they all reseated themselves per the order from Rear Admiral Kycilia. He didn't know what to expect from this briefing but with the arrival of the admiral one way or another it had begun, he could only hope that all of them were being recognized for their ability and skill rather then being single out for their individual failings or something akin to that, his first choice in unit wouldn't be a suicide squadron, he'd say that much. _'Would they really put veteran pilots and personal at risk and casually dismiss the loss?'_ He didn't have a immensely high view of his own importance to the state but all the same he was a investment, his training had taken years and likely cost Zeon a considerable sum, to date he had likely only repaid a portion of what the state had spent turning him from a unskilled student into the soldier that sat here today.

"All of you here, have been chosen for the formation of a new special task group, made up of proven and talented individuals of proven ability and skill. Be it in piloting, combat, or engineering you all have been picked because you are the best. You will be the testbed for our new special operations initiative, small teams made up of experienced and skilled soldiers and tasked with undertaking tasks that our conventional forces never could. As you are the first of your kind, it will be reflected in your designation: **Typhon** the first spawn of Gaia in the ancient Greek mythos of Earth." The word was foreign and rang of a time long past, he knew that such designation, such naming gave a team more impact then merely a numeric or collection of letters but even so, it didn't seem all that impressive to him. Of course he wouldn't inform Lady Kycilia of that fact, clearly she thought that it was a great honor indeed.

"You five have been hand selected by my staff for the formation of a new unit to answer directly to the Mobile Attack Group, to me." Where they to be the template for which new incarnations of special forces to be based around? Where they a test model? Zeon had special forces of course prior to the war to the war but he had never been of the importance required to know much of what they did or how they were managed. Now he was assigned to what could in all likelihood be the first grouping designated solely for their fight against the Federation directly.

Across the table no one spoke, but each eyed each other, all of them were in similar situations. They had been pulled from their units, their squads, to be put into cooperation with strangers, while they all wore the same uniform, no doubt each of them had the same idea. _'I'd rather be fighting with my friends.'_ Yet it was unwise to dismiss the wishes of a Zabi, Kycilia herself had commanded this team formed, and with the state of things, no doubt it was needed. Zeon need victories, success and triumph to its name, with British being a failure they were in a perilous position.

For all their losses the Federation still outnumbered them heavily, and still possessed enough of their standard forces to quite possibly drive them all the way back to the homeland, if things did not change. They were likely put together to ensure that things did indeed change.

"You will receive your initial assignment in two standard days, until then I request that you remain aboard the Argus and prepare for what is to come." That likely meant the Argus was leaving this sector, where their ultimate destination was and what they would be doing once they arrived was anyone's guess but he supposed he should just content himself to the fact it was obvious that his newly furnished Zaku II would likely be shipped along after them through the Zeon supply train if it wasn't to be loaded aboard the vessel directly.

"But what about-" The overly tall dark skinned member of their team questioned, his brow crinkled in question.

"Ensign Pulin was it? Do not concern yourself with your mobile suit or any materials you may wish to bring with you upon your leave of absence, you will be given all you need to preform your duties." The man seemingly took the reply in stride and only gave a minute nod of the head in response. _'Could this vessel even hold five mobile suits?'_ On his transit to the Argus he had noticed that it was highly modified from the standard displacement of the normal Chivvay, clearly whatever model this cruiser was unique, and likely had been severely changed from the baseline of its design. Perhaps it had enhanced hangar storage capacity, even if it did not bear the standard catapult it likely could hold more then just the assigned compliment aboard, but if they were to deploy rapidly, he could only hope the vessel had solution to that, disembarking from a hangar bay without the usage of a catapult was difficult.

If nothing else then this deployment would be a change of pace, he hadn't done a tour on a Chivvay yet, he had been assigned from Musai to Musai, until he had come upon the Gwadan. That grand ship he had thought would be his home for the reminder of the conflict, but it seemed fate had other plans in store of him.

"As your commander I must say that I have the highest expectations for all of you, each and everyone of you were selected for your skill and devotion to our cause. I trust that you will all preform up to those expectations." To live up to the expectations of the admiral, to live up to the expectations of his nation, he would throw himself into this task with renewed vigor, his own doubts and melancholy were buried beneath resurgent duty. British may have failed but this war was far from over, the Federation may have escaped the destruction promised to them this day, but he would ensure that they would not get to rest upon their laurels and with this assignment he knew he could accomplish that.

"Yes mam." They all echoed in unison as they rose from the table, fingers already at their brow in salute.

The monitor went blank, wherever the Kycilia had been broadcasting from clearly the signal was far from perfect and no doubt she wished to keep this as brief as possible. He couldn't blame her for that, as he reseated himself he focused on just what had occurred in the previous five minutes. He had come into this room, expecting to be assigned to some test unit or squadron under the mobile attack group, instead he was given a honor far higher then any of those things.

"Typhon Team huh." Well it was a official he supposed, they were a designated unit under the command of Rear Admiral Kycilia Zabi herself. To think, he had been impressed being under the direct command of Delaz, and now mere days later he was retasked to serve directly under a Zabi to undertake surely the most dangerous missions that Zeon Military Intelligence could put together. They wouldn't need special forces to take part in the standard fare of mass battle, no surely they would be deployed to hit targets that normal forces would never have a chance of striking.

It was a surreal moment, never had he thought that anything like this would ever happen to him.

Zeon special forces. Elite soldiers and pilots answering directly to Lady Kycilia and her own chain of commanders absent from Dozle's own officers, never had he dreamed that he would actually be requested to join one of these rare units but with the war now once again becoming the foremost focus no doubt such efforts would be required. They would need everyone they could get, they would need the best of the best, he could only hope he could live up to that. Zeon Spec Ops had always been something of a running myth even during peace time, from time to time individuals would be retasked to be part of some special task group or unit, but with them at war this would not be mopping up political dissidence or preventing insurrection against the Zabi dictatorship...it would be to find targets that main Zeon forces would never reach.

Though why him? He was flattered most certainly but there were better pilots out there then him, more devoted pilots then him, he was thoroughly middling when it came to kill recordings, while he stood out among the 9th that had to do with him already having fought at Side Two and thus coming into them with a higher body count. He would just have to live up to those expectations, to exceed them, to become what was needed by his nation, he had become a soldier to serve his nation, he would now go beyond even that.

* * *

 **AN: Well there we have chapter seven and the introduction to Dieter's primary team for the rest of the narrative, while the teams he has been assigned with thus far never got much backstory at all that will change with Typhon give that they will be present for the rest of the story. Speaking of Typhon what do you all think of that name choice? I thought it was only appropriate given that they are sort of the predecessor to teams like Cyclops and Chimera which pop up much later in the One Year War.**

 **Speaking of this chapter, what did you all think of the moral conflict that Dieter had with himself when it came to British in the prior chapter and his reaction to its failure in this one? I wanted to convey that while he is willing to commit truly horrible acts to ensure success for his country, destruction of unrelated targets, especially at the cost of their own forces is something he doesn't approve of. Not to mention that despite how wrapped up he is in service, and the dogma of Zeon, he actually still does possess something of a conscience and isn't as blind a zealot as he would have you believe as you have witnessed in prior chapters.**

 **Ultimately with Dieter I want to convey all the conflicting ideologies, emotions and thoughts that I picture a average Zeon soldier would have during the outbreak of this war, he has trained for it, prepared for it but is ultimately still caught flatfooted by just its sheer scope and scale, and the destruction that ensues in its waking moments.**

 **Anyway enough rambling in the author's note.**

 **I do hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and please remember if you enjoyed it to favorite, follow and review.**

 **Thanks and until next time!**

 **-Reborn Akatsuki**


	8. Side Five

**AN: Chapter eight aka the countdown to Loum: _Cue to The Final Countdown by Europe_**

 **I'm sorry but anyway to the point everything from here on out will be a direct line to the events of January 16th and that iconic battle. Dieter and the rest of Typhon will obviously take part in that climatic event. For the most part this chapter will just go into more world building, as we have finally gotten around to introducing the unit that Dieter will be assigned with until the conclusion of the story we obviously need to get to know them...at least a little bit no? But yeah, expect more of the same and maybe a little bit more on the info dump on character's as we go into the personalities, histories and service records of four new characters.**

 **I do not claim to be a expert on crafting or even implementing characters properly but I do hope you all enjoy as I had a bit of fun writing all of this and putting all together for you. Truth be told? I have never really had much practice solely using OC's that I myself created in scenario's where the scene is solely populated by them, until this fic that is. Before that I worked with existing characters and the occasional implanting of a OC to add something to the plot or even to just fill in space or what have you, but with this I actually got to get around to designing these characters out and seeing how well they would work together, and I am sort of happy with the result.**

 **Also this fic does seem to actually be picking up a little bit of a constant viewer base with four favorites and follows as of this upload I must say I am glad at the very least you all enjoy this. If more come so be it, but if not then well at the very least I will know that people have seen my work even if they decided to not stick around due to that handy viewer option.**

 **Anyway let's get down to the brass tacks and to the next chapter in this little story of mine.**

 **Disclaimer: Don't own Gundam, that's all on Bandai-all I own are the original elements in this fan created work. All credit goes to the creators for actual materials relating to the series.**

* * *

 **Tivvay Cruiser: Argus**

 **Zeon Battle Group in route to Side Five**

 **January 10th**

 **1500 Hours**

"Alright _comrades_ , as I am expected to lead this unit first of all know that I am Lee Roland. Captain formerly in The Space Attack Force under Admiral Dozle as most of you are yourselves. I know we are all weary from British and the constant fighting, but we have our orders and we have two days to make this into a proper unit. I have never served with any of you before, I do not know you or your capabilities but you were selected for this unit, so surely you must be competent."

"A good place to start as any I suppose is introductions." With that the Captain rose from his seat and took his place at the head of the table before giving his new force a once over and seemingly selecting one at random, point at him he simply said.

"You." The command needed no explanation and the large dark man rose upward from the table before going into a brief overview of his service history, record and of course and most importantly of all when coming to introductions. His name.

"Ensign Greg Poulin, I was a technician and pilot aboard the Musai: _Destiny_ stationed at the assault on Side One. She was lost along with most of her crew in that fighting, but I survived and was rerouted to the Mobile Assault Group a few days ago, I suppose I am going to be the primary mechanic on any suits the team has..." The large man seemed to shrug, clearly nonplused at the entire situation now that he had been informed by Kycilia that his suit was going to be brought along. Whatever faults the man may have had, it did Dieter proud that he was clearly devoted to maintaining and working on mobile suits, perhaps even more so then actually piloting them.

They'd need good staff for the repairs and refitting that mobile suits needed after deployment, even casual action caused all sorts of wear and tear on a suit, and if left untreated could cause even a state of the art machine like the Zaku II to break down when needed most.

"Good, moving on. You." The second Lieutenant within the room rose from his chair, his military regulated short brown hair neatly combed over as he saluted the Captain before he began.

"Lieutenant Francis Emre, Pilot formerly under Admiral Dozle on the Musai: _Absolution_ , fought at Side Two for most of the campaign up until now...got retasked for this unit a day or so ago, was in route while British went down." With that the shortest introduction thus far he reseated himself and resumed merely observing the grouping he was now assigned within, there were only two left to call upon, himself or the young blonde haired man.

"Excellent. You." It seemed it was his turn, he briefly went over within his head how he would approach this, he deemed that only his recent service history would be relevant nothing from before the war would matter here and now, with his plan in mind he let out a held breath.

He gave a grim nod as he rose from the table as he was called upon. "Lieutenant Dieter Kries formerly of the _Zeal_ under Vice Admiral Dozle's Space Attack Force, she was sunk at Side Two at the onset of the battle, I was then retasked along with the _Wrath_ and came to the battle at Side One until the start of British. I got the call to join the unit just this very day in fact, didn't expect it but I will prove myself worthy of it." He supposed he had gotten the point across, he hadn't boosted of his skills and yet he had spoken of his direct service record, no doubt if the Captain was more curious he could merely inquire through official channels to get a more in depth view of his record, if the need arose.

Seating himself once again his eyes like all the rest within the room fell upon the final member of their cadre.

"And you?" He questioned of the only non officer or ensign in the briefing room.

The aristocratic man rose from his seat before presenting himself to his new unit in a manner of solomon dignity and cold reserve.

"Chief Petty Officer Lenard Drevis I was assigned to the Side Four neutralization and carried out operations under Admiral Kycilia directed to that purpose. I was stationed aboard the operation flagship the Gawazine: _Pride_. I personally shot down _seventy eight_ Saberfish and three Columbus class carriers in the fighting until my Zaku was caught up in one of the colonies exploding." He gestured downward to his leg which was still wrapped in a fresh cast beneath the knee. "The cockpit was breached and I barely avoided getting crushed under a hunk of shrapnel the size of a small house wrecked my suit. I escaped relatively unscathed but my leg was shattered and needs time to fully mend, it was a clean break however so as long as I am piloting a suit or not hiking through desert or jungle, I should do fine in this unit... _sir_." As he seated himself Dieter couldn't help but focus on this Drevis, while he was of the lowest rank in their assigned group no doubt he had likely the highest kill count of any of them.

Saberfish may have not been much to compare to a Zaku II or even the outdated Zaku I but more then seventy of them? In just a little over a week? If his machine hadn't been buried beneath rubble at Side Four just how many Feddie pilots would he have killed out there? He himself was revered because of his sheer kill ratio of warships, he no longer even kept track of Saberfish kills and yet even if he pooled all of his confirmed kills together...it probably wouldn't go over fifty, was it the same for the rest of his team? Under the command of Delaz he had been a asset, one of the better pilots, but here while he was among those of proven ability.

Talent. Would he even stand out? What would his future be like in this assignment? He eventually wanted to become a leader of their people, a commander of the glorious Zeon forces as they ruled over Humanity in the aftermath of this war as it was destined to be but if he was around those with abilities as good or greater then his own would he be acknowledged?

* * *

 **Zeon Forward Observation Group in route to Side Five**

 **January 11th, 0079**

 **Musai cruiser: Vindicator**

 **1200 Hours**

"It seems like most of the fleet is being rerouted to Side Five, every other front for the most part is shutting down with our _successes_ at Side Two and Four." He inhaled deeply from his cigarette before flicking it slightly with his index finger and casting the plume of ash that was building on the tip to the steel plate of the floor. He eyed his new commander for his reaction to his word choice: What did Roland think of Zeon's tactic of neutralizing Federal colonies? What did he believe that said of them, their cause?

"That's one way to word it I suppose." Roland replied gruffly as he continued to hand roll his own tobacco into the firm brown cylinder of the cigar. "Not the one I would use, but I cannot deny our war is advancing because of it." His second comment left him more curious then anything else, Roland at first seemed against targeting civilian colonies, against destroying the Federal Sides and yet tactically it seemed he was accepting of the results that stemmed from such a practice, perhaps the Captain had merely given this matter, much like himself a decent deal of thought and had come to the same conclusion that conventional war with the Federation would be impossible.

"Command is being strangely tight lipped about why we are re-diverting to Side Five though, there is nothing there really beyond just the average collection of Feddie colonies and bases...nothing really worth the forces being mustered to take it." He pondered at the implications here, Zeon had the Federation on the ropes, he could feel it, at British they had shattered the fleet that had been sent to intercept them. He had claimed yet more kills for his own record and standing, his prestige as a pilot while still overshadowed by some was becoming increasingly more and more renowned throughout their force. Yet even so for all their losses the Federal fleet still dwarfed their own, they had no chance of securing victory with so large a portion of their military still intact, they would have to land a crippling blow from which the Federation could never recover.

The blow British was supposed to have been.

Was that was this was meant to be? Were they going to try again? The mere hint of such a operation would no doubt send the Federation forces scrambling to stop them, it would be a bold strategy on their part. He had no proof, no evidence to prove his case, nothing except his own thoughts on the matter. Yet he knew he was right, something within him, some primal part of his brain knew that he had stumbled upon the cause for this unexpected deployment. They were only a day or so out from British and yet, Zeon could not let up, they could not let the Federation recover or try to gain the momentum of the war, they would have to dictate the pace of this conflict if they were to win it.

All the pieces he could see matched up to what he thought, Zeon was going to drop another colony.

He stared outward at the endless void of space his eye following the trail of blue and red flame as the Musai within their group banked and twisted to maintain their course in the silence of deep space. This battle grouping of theirs was not at full strength being only made of four musai and the Argus but there purpose was not designated for combat but for merely traveling to Side Five, they would not be expected to take the entire cluster by themselves with only seventeen Zaku obviously, even if that was their mission they simply didn't have the needed firepower or support in the region. Yet even so his thoughts came back to him, it all pointed towards a repeat of the colony drop but through his peripheral vision he could match out the Captain merely gazing at him, evenly, stoically. He turned to face his superior question already his lips of what his thoughts were only to have that squashed effortlessly by his command.

"Dieter...don't overthink things, just focus on our assignment." Clearly whatever musings his superior had the subject were not being be brought up here and now, he merely wanted him to focus on their immediate task of arriving in sector and preparing for whatever mission Kycilia and the admirality would undoubtedly have for them there. Even if his guess was correct, what did that mean at the end of the day to him? He had witnessed that colony wreathed in fire and wrath descending downward towards the earth, even as his Zaku had been pelted and riddled by shrapnel and debris his eyes had never left the sight.

He had been transfixed by its deathly appeal, the blow that had been meant to the end war in one single strike was averted, the cost was a city of millions, yet more dead heaped upon this growing pile of hundreds of millions if not more. Even now the killing had never stopped, Side Two, Side Four and One remained battlefields, even with all this loss of life and the utter destruction wreaked upon the human race in the name of freedom, the killing never ceased. He could only guess at how many people under the Zabi flag had perished so far, tens of thousands at the very least by this point yet was that loss to be overshadowed merely because they instigated this war?

Was their own sorrow and suffering to be buried beneath the weight of the corpses of the Federation?

"Dieter, I gathered from your service record, you are quite adapt at taking on assignments that are of...questionable morality without difficulty or question, you will need that in the days to come." Roland's words broke him from his own thoughts and musings and he gave a short nod of the head at the decree.

He had his own questions, thoughts and speculations but first and foremost he was a soldier, they could wait.

His reply exited his lips without any sign of hesitation or reluctance.

"Yes sir."

* * *

 **Tivvay Cruiser: Argus**

 **Zeon Battle Group in route to Side Five**

 **Briefing Room**

 **1700 Hours**

 **January 11th**

Smoke trailed across the briefing room from three separate cigarettes covering the ceiling of the metal chamber in thin wisps of black. They were all seated once again in the very room in which they had all met, today was the prelude to their first operation, they had all been informed of such and they were all awaiting it now. The Captain had arrived, within his hand rested a thin stack of manilla folders, no doubt the documents and registry information required for undertaking a operation, but it was clear.

Orders from Kycilia had finally arrived, the day she had told them to prepare for had arrived.

Their first mission as a unit, the first demonstration of if Typhon would be a effective unit or not, the proof that they could get the job done.

"I just got word from Lady Kycilia and it seems that we are going to be stationed rearward of the colony cluster at Side Five and simply run silent until we hit the drop point. Our grouping is to provide recon for the cluster and nothing more. We are to await the arrival of the primary fleet in a few days, once that kicks off I suspect that we won't just be gathering intel, with our resupply vessel in route I want all pilots decked and suited by 0500 tomorrow sharp." As they stood at attention Dieter couldn't help but feel the apprehension in the air that seemed to cling to each and every one of them,soon they would be sent on their first assignment. It was a routine op, something each and everyone of them had undoubtedly practiced and perfected since their days at the Academy and yet even so...would this mission bring about success or failure for their initiative?

Typhon at present likely stood as a test model, the next generation of Zeon special forces, if they proved their unit reliable undoubtedly more like their own would be created but if they failed...Kycilia would undoubtedly lose clout among the admirality and her position within the hierarchy of the military would become tenuous, while he bore no love for Kycilia he did not wish a Zabi disgraced, while such a slight would undoubtedly bolster the position of her brothers, it would also undoubtedly result in the death of not only the Typhon test model but those who made up its membership.

He had no death wish, he'd fight and die for Zeon but not for military politics, so they had to succeed, nothing could get in the way of that.

"I would have liked a few days to get to work on coordinating efforts and building this into a proper unit but we simply don't have the time. Never the less I suspect tomorrow will go smoothly just remember we are going out there to observe and record placement of the colonies, and their forces-nothing more if we get detected we are to disengage immediately and hightail it back to the Argus which will be operating well beyond scanner range. Can't dispense particles because the Federation will know we are here the minute we do so watch your ass...radar may be worthless in space unless if you are damn near point blank but it can still register you." Roland's concerns were valid while they were all professionals, honed men of Zeon, they had never worked together, never operated together.

Their first joint mission would be done without any sort of training or even knowledge of just how everyone would operate in the field, it could go very badly very quickly if their unit failed to mesh properly. Yet even so...what choice did they have except to try and hope for the best? They had their assignment, like it or not it was a task ordered of them and they could not fail to produce results, not today.

"We are all professionals and five Zaku should be more then enough for such a routine mission but remember, we don't have the numbers to fight the entire Feddie fleet, so if they get alerted retreat. I'd rather it be reported back to Kycilia that we had to pull back due to being detected then that our entire unit was wiped out in a pointless skirmish before our main forces even arrived." He gave a nod as he put his cigarette out against the metal of the briefing table tarnishing the polished metal in ashe. He'd be ready for the mission tomorrow, he still had questions but undoubtedly they would answered in the pre-mission briefing the following day, and if not he knew the scope of their objective and that would be enough.

The silence and his train of thought however was broken by his new teammate inserting himself into Roland's briefing with a question that no doubt hung on all of their minds. He didn't begrudge the man for asking, nor his curiosity even if it was somewhat out of place yet even he could have told Poulin that the answer would be to his liking.

"Speaking of that sir is there a ETA on the main fleet arriving?" The question of reinforcements, support, of when the true mission, the true objective of their sojourn to Side Five would begin. That one question contained within it a dozen others, the reason of when, why and how it would all be done, how they would wage their next stage of war against the Federation, what they had truly come to Side Five to obtain. The question that know one save perhaps Gihren, Kycilia or Dozle knew the answer to, it was posed to Roland and while his reply was diplomatic there was a clear indicator in just the frustration of answering such a thing.

"Ensign, I honestly don't know I have heard there is still some moping up going on in a few sectors but forces are being redirected here as they become available." That was something they all had heard, save perhaps Side Four which by most reports was little more then a collection of rubble floating amid the vacuum, all the other fronts were still open and thus required their primary forces until such time as sufficient damage was done to Federal assets. It was simple strategy, a new front couldn't be opened until prior ones were closed out, if they weren't then it risked them being overextended and that was something they could ill afford at this early juncture in their war for freedom.

Roland however continued onward delivering a final cold and precise declaration of just how things were to be the following day however.

"Don't expect them to magically bail you out though, once we hit vacuum tomorrow...all we have to rely on is each other." It was the truth, plain and simple. Reinforcements may have been on their way but until their arrival, they were a single battle group, a single finger of the military of Zeon stretched dangerously into Federally controlled territory, no battle had been waged at Side Five as of yet...if their forces had not been directed to assist other Federation interests, they'd still contain their entire fleet. Numerically engaging such a force with their own standing might at present was suicide, plain and simple.

* * *

 **Tivvay Cruiser: Argus**

 **Hangar**

 **January 12th**

 **0500 Hours**

Within the cramped interior of his Zaku he awaited clearance to disembark from the vessel along with the rest of his team. As ordered he along with the other three subordinate members of Typhon had arrived a short while before, going over pre mission briefings and checks had sped by and now all that remained was the waiting. The hangar bay's floor slid away as it depressurized and exposed itself to the infinite black vacuum of space with the removal of the artificial gravity within the hangar the magnetic locks on the soles of his massive Zaku's _foot_ mounts were released. Finishing the final preflight sequences he activated the primary mono eye camera of his Zaku. Its flashing red orb illuminating the dark interior of the vessel. With the camera's now recording he could make out the other occupants of the large hangar block-four other Zaku II. Firing up the secondary vernier mounts on his Zaku he angled it so that the thrust vectors would be clear of the ship while at the same time not impacting into any of his other squadmates Zaku.

This was the difficult of a open vacuum launch without usage of a catapult, they had to make their own trajectories and ensure that no collisions occurred or anything else of that nature. It was time consuming and damn near impossible to do amidst the chaos of battle, but thankfully they wouldn't need to deploy into a active combat zone, they were still several thousand klicks beyond Side Five's scanner range and if their mission went to plan then there would be no issue. They'd gather all the data and information they needed, return to the Argus and await the arrival of their main forces sometime later on in the week.

His Zaku in tandem with the other four descended beneath the warship before he keyed up the primary thruster rack on the back of the mobile suit, firing up the engines would send a thermal spike that would be detected fairly easily at close range, but with them so far out from the colony proper they were banking on the random dust and radiation of space to mask their approach. Side Five had yet to be assaulted during the war, but no doubt the Federation there new well that Zeon had at long last declared the war that everyone had known was coming for the prior decade. Spinning his suit silently into a banking maneuver across the aft of the warship he noted that both Poulin's and Drevis's Zaku already had their primary aramant out and ready in case if this mission went south. His own 280mm rocket launcher was still slung across the underside of his suit's waist ready to be freed if the need arose but this was primarily a stealth mission, there would be need to draw it if things went to plan. None the less he didn't begrudge his fellow pilots in their caution, both suits were equipped with the standard 120mm machine gun although Roland's Zaku bore a large steel axe, one of the older models predating even the heat hawk of the modern Zaku.

While traditional high strength steel axes may lack the sheer cutting power of a heated blade, they were none the less effective weapons against traditional _soft_ targets such as lightly armored ships and fighter craft. It likely wouldn't do overly well against the heavy armor a proper warship but if things went to plan then the fleet stationed at Side Five would have no idea there were any Zeon activity in this sector until it was deemed time for the attack proper to be launched. Lt Emre however bore the strangest weapon of any of his assigned squadmates rather then making do with the traditional arms of the Zaku he bore a prototype he had never seen before seeing his fellow Zaku pilot's machine brought aboard the Argus. A massive 175mm Recoilless Rifle that was basically just a remodeled artillery gun from the Zeon Main Battle tank the Magella. While he had never seen the weapon in action its sheer size and presence on the battlefield left him with little doubt that whatever was struck by one of its powerful rounds would be destroyed.

He had questioned his fellow Lieutenant on the weapon and the cocksure officer had merely grinned and explained that it made picking off distant battleships child's play there was no need to even get within traditional firing range, he didn't have to contend with any of their escorts or main batteries to engage them. All he need do was line up the weapon and fire and the massive round did the rest as it burrowed its way into the heavy armor of the interior of the ship, there also special rounds designed for the weapon such as ones with increased armor penetration and even explosive tipped rounds that would act as anti personal within the vessel themselves shredding equipment and crew once they penetrated. All in all a truly terrifying weapon such a laid back sort of man.

Hopefully none of their weaponry would be required but none the less he continued to check his ammunition readouts for his rocket launcher ensuring that it had been loaded before hand and that he possessed a sufficient number of replacement shells should the need arise to reload it if combat broke out. He noted the flash on his interior console before flicking the comm key and his earpiece was flooded with new orders."Kries, Poulin, Drevis I am assigning to sector three recon, observe the cluster, and record any Federal ship movements and anything else you find note worthy, remember though if you get spotted or detected. Bail out, we don't have the firepower to contend with a armada at the present, the battlegroup will remain on standby for emergency evac but we have no idea how long it will take for them to get into position to offer support...so don't get caught." He acknowledged the direction before angling his Zaku's primary thruster array into the proper firing angle, he'd mostly be getting around via drift and secondary verniers to avoid detection so a proper launch trajectory was a must unless if he wanted to be out in the void for a week getting into position.

"Hey Kries, you ready for this?" He heard the Petty Officer's stern and oddly commanding voice escape through his comm channel before he responded gruffly. "I do outrank you if you recall?" While he wasn't much for formality, he did not take kindly to disrespect from a junior ranking servicemen, Besides that man hadn't earned the right to be that frank with him, this was merely their first assignment, they had not seen combat together yet or formed any sort of bond beyond them being stationed together on the same task group. The line was silent after his reply until he heard the soft and undeniable sound of laughter-that man found his demand for respect amusing?

"You want to let me in on the joke Drevis?" He questioned as his Zaku began its prearranged flight towards the exterior fields of the colony, the faint plume of his thruster pack was reduced heavily due to the low power draw of his engine, but even so any half decent thermal sensor would pick him out in cold space relatively quickly if they didn't get into place behind assorted space weather that was predicted to be taking place in their designated recon position. His rearward camera's reassured him that his other two wingmates were following suit even as he killed the thruster pack and began a forward descent on pure momentum, if all went to plan he'd glide gently into place within the next hour and he wouldn't even need to active any of his retro thrusters or verniers.

"Its no joke, its just that you are more formal and disciplined then what I was led to believe Dozle's grunts were like." He let out a noncommittal grunt but he understood the sentiment, after all Drevis unlike the rest of them was not under the banner of the Space Attack Force like the majority of the squad, no he had been selected from Kycilia's own forces and had likely served under her since the academy, so he likely had all manner of notions and ideas about the rival branch of the military. "I didn't mean to offend you Dieter, its just that in my experience folks from Dozle's branch tend to be nothing more then overly aggressive oafs who can pilot a mobile suit and not much else." He glowered at that gross generalization, while it was true that some within their branch of service were overly eager to see combat, some of them even wishing this war had broken out years before, but that wasn't a universal sentiment restricted solely to the Space Attack Force...after all the rumors of the membership that made up Kycilia's marine forces left little to be admired and yet this Petty Officer would slander his own branch of service? His former branch of service he supposed would be more accurate...after all technically was he now not a part of the Mobile Attack Group?

Did he not also serve under Kycilia now?

Flipping his comm channel open to reply he gruffly replied. "I am still above you in rank, regardless of our now shared service branch, you'd do well to remember that Chief Petty Officer." His tone lacked heat but the message was clear: I outrank you and I expect to be treated with respect, at the very least while on active duty. There was no reply from his squadmate which he took as affirmation, regardless they had their orders and they were expected to carry out their assignment. Given they were assigned sector three they would be observing roughly fifty to a hundred colonies at a given time, a lot to take in but hopefully manageable, if they were lucky then the majority of the Federal fleet would be stationed at their usual picket defensive formations spread across the colonies, it would give him a far easier time at observing their numbers and what exactly their unit composition was made up of.

Sailing through the darkness of space in silence all that was left to him were his thoughts, the shallow and inconsequential beeping of the machinery of his Zaku was drown out from years of practice and experience. Today they were laying the ground work for their offensive in this area, this future battlefield would be mapped out by them, each and every colony and its location would be recorded, every visible ship, ingoing and outgoing traffic it would all be noted and stored away for future reference. Sent off to the Admirals that ruled their military, he had no idea what would be done with it but hopefully whatever grand stratagem that was birthed from this information would result in the victory that Zeon so desperately required. It had barely been a week of war and yet it felt as if he had fighting for months, years, the ache within his bones made him feel as if he was his father's age and not just barely within his mid twenties.

Was he just weary of battle? Or just the sheer impossibility of their task? This war?

* * *

 **Tivvay Cruiser: Argus**

 **Hangar**

 **January 13th**

 **0800 Hours**

As his Zaku powered down and he kicked out of the now open canopy of his hatch his weary limbs barely felt it as he made contact with the deck below. This had been their third outing, the scouting of Side Five was nearing completion and the news was far from good. If their information was to be taken at face value then it was clear that the Federation had maintained its full garrison at Side Five, hundreds of warships were there now. Entire portions of their navy that had never faced the wrath of Zeon, regardless of the outcome of British or Side One, Side Five endured with its full strength. It would take a much larger portion of the Zeon fleet to engage such a force with any hope of success, even if they managed to breach into their defensive cordons, they'd need sheer numbers to engage that horde, his mind reeled at the implication if this was what Kycilia had hoped to learn what was to Zeon's reply?

After all if Zeon mustered forces to take the colony cluster then wouldn't the Federation send reinforcements as well? Despite their heavy losses in other sectors, massive amounts of their overall military force within space remained, even now doubt more and more ships were being launched upward into space from Jaburo every single day. The longer this war went on, the more evident it became that they would need to reclaim the momentum, they could not the stagnation of their campaign, they could not fight conventional war.

Attrition only favored the Federation.

He noted Roland who had not gone out on this scouting mission awaited him at the entrance to the ship proper, as the massive hangar bay doors of the ship closed, he popped the seals of his normal suit's helmet and pulled it free breathing deeply of the freshly recycled air of the ship. His suit's own internal air supply was forced to make do with what he himself brought aboard with him and that quickly went stale even with multiple pounds of the precious commodity. He stood at attention as his superior stepped upon the flight deck before returning the salute and indicating he could stand at ease.

The man looked somewhat amused if not also skeptical, he didn't understand the reasoning for the shift in behavior. He and the Captain had gotten along fairly well, surprisingly, over the past few days but it was clear that he had something upon his mind. Yet as a junior officer he couldn't simply ask what had caused this sudden change. But clearly it would be discussed, so all he had to do was remain silent.

The Captain eyed him for a full second before he began, his breath stank of whatever the mess was serving down in the bowels of the warship and of smoke from the same cheap state ran Tobacco company that he bought his own cigarettes from.

"Well Dieter you apparently impressed some people at Side One and British because you are receiving a distinguished combat service medal, no formal ceremony or any of that crap because of the state of the war at the moment but...I did get interesting news besides the medal you are also going to be given a rare honor." He had nothing to say to that, he knew he had done well at Side One. Sinking multiple warships and downing fighters was hard work but it was expected of a mobile suit pilot, he was pleased though he had stood out and yet that left the question.

What was the other honor that was being hoisted upon him?

"What?" There was nothing more he could say, all that was within him was simple speculation and that would never provide him with the answer.

"You get to have a customized color scheme for your Zaku II, I have already skimmed through the proper paperwork and everything seems to be in order but when we next deploy...your suit will be in something besides the stock green. Ultimately whatever color you choose will be your own choice, but be aware that it will become the sigil by which you are known for, beyond being in this unit, beyond even being in the Zeon military...that color will signify that to both friend and foe." That reply was something he had not expected, never expected. Only a small handful of pilots ever performed well enough to be rewarded in that fashion, nationally renown pilots, was he that good? Truly?

What was this to be representative of? Himself or propaganda? Was he such a skilled pilot that he deserved such renown or was this merely another piece of propaganda to feed to the homeland while this war raged on?

"Remember that." The Captain's continuation broke him from his musings and he merely eyed for a moment before posing a gauging question.

"You seem to place a high degree of honor and prestige on such a distinction, do you truly think it so important?" The Captain clearly viewed this as a honor of the highest magnitude and wished it to be respected as such, he could see that clearly and yet even more then that however-he wanted to know _why_. What was this honor to Lee Roland, Captain in the Zeon military.

Apparently however the Zeon officer had expected such a thing and merely gave him a small chuckle before he turned seriously and replied earnestly.

"Since the earliest days of the fighter craft on that muddy ball Earth, the distinguished pilots always had a customized color scheme, something that made them stand out from the rank and file. You are merely taking your place in that honored company of warriors, after all Zeon has adopted such practice from the cultures and militaries of Earth. Customized coloring is already on quite a few suits, you may have encountered: Have you not seen Dozle's ' _royal_ ' Zaku? Or Ral's _Blue_ Zaku? What is that if not a signifier that these men are above the base ranking Academy graduates?" The man had a point, to all around them these soldiers were resonated with pride and strength. They were the champions of their military, the carriers of the dreams and hopes of the homeland, he recalled such drivel from the national news as it was recited perfectly to the state censored scripts.

Captain Roland continued onward regardless of the thoughts that were within Dieter's mind.

"That these are the veterans, the commanders of our military, the officers and personal that have proven they can reliably get the job done no matter what it takes...Now you are one of them, so yes I do place such a thing as a high honor." Their gazes met evenly for a moment before he gave his superior a firm nod of the head, clearly whatever Roland's personal thoughts on him being deserving of such a honor aside-the man was willing to go along with it for the sake of tradition. He had only known his new Captain for a few standard days by now but it was clear that he placed as much emphasis on honor and tradition of their homeland as he did anything else, whatever his own opinions may have been...he was loyal to the end.

That was respectable, commendable even. Lee Roland may not have been one of the most decorated or famous officers within Zeon but it was clearly he held pride and devotion to the military in which he served, to the cause which he served, to the people and government he served. He had been called a model soldier by Dozle on occasion, but in truth? He'd say that role fell to Lee well before it came to him, he would follow orders, would do his duty, even die for his cause but Captain Roland would do all of that while never questioning, never disobeying and never causes ripples.

His new Captain lived and breathed the Zeon military life in a way that he never could.

"I understand sir and...I knew the practice was dated and all its just I never thought I'd ever get enough renown for it to ever be applied to me, I mean...until this war broke out I was just another Lt on a boat same as any officer. The only thing I ever really excelled at was piloting and even then there are those who are far better then or willing to take more risk to achieve greatness." Was this merely self doubt? Was he afraid of success or was this just him being cautious of being labeled something he was not, while it was true he was a fairly good pilot, those he was going to be put into the same grouping with went beyond _good_. They were living legends, and yet surely more would be born from this war before ended, did he fear that he would just be forgotten as this war raged onward? That he was just the flavor of the month so to speak?

"Never admit as much to the people, to them you should be a symbol, a proud spacenoid of Zeon." That honestly surprised him and Roland seemed to expect such a thing and when he went to reply he was cut off rapidly.

"But..." His words had barely hung in the air for more then a heartbeat before the sharp and authoritative tone of the older man brought the conversation squarely to its conclusion.

"How many tens of thousands of our people are dead already due to this war? It hasn't even reached home yet and we have lost a considerable portion of our strength already, I need not be a admiral to understand that we need heroes in this hour, and you have been selected to be one." He supposed he had no looked at it in that way, that by accepting this prestige, this honor not only would he be propelling himself further down the path he himself wished to walk but also become the symbol of this era, one of the great pilots that fought against the strongest military in history in the greatest war of all time.

Roland seemed to echo his thoughts with his final say on the matter.

"Live up to it." He would have to, he would accept nothing less, the people back in Side Three deserved nothing less.

He would become a figure of renown, a pilot skilled enough to be rewarded by those who ruled his nation and given the highest of honors to demonstrate such ability. He would fight for his cause, and become yet another legend in a war that would no doubt be talked about for centuries. His name, his ability would not die with him, they would be recalled in hushed whispers by the enemies of Zeon and cheered by those who lived beneath its banner for all time.

"Yes sir."

* * *

 **AN: Well there we have it, chapter eight and Dieter is getting a custom color for his Zaku in actuality that is basically what I outlined in the fic. Every single notable pilot in both world war's for the most flew something with their own spin on its coloring, within regulation of course and even now in a few modern militaries you can get small indicators on a bird that shows just who you are and how well you preform. Course unlike in real life in Gundam you can apparently just throw together whatever you like given we have seen every color under the sun representing aces.**

 **From Char's 'red' to Ral's blue and the Tri Star's Black and Purple just to name a few we have witnessed many memorable characters who flew customized machines into battle. Dieter is just one among many, but it is showing that he is starting to get recognized and as the chapter showed he is actually somewhat uncertain how to process that, I mean you go from being a halfway decent pilot who doesn't play much at the politics of Zeon to someone who is starting to get national attention from the homeland for his success rate.**

 **That said if you look at those final thoughts on the issue, it seems like he came to accept such distinction pretty quickly eh?** **Dieter never was one for modesty, he values himself too highly and he has a fairly self important opinion of himself. Yet at the same time the character is somewhat submissive at the face of authority as has been demonstrated, while you could say this typical military behavior with one carrying out orders with only minor to no protest with Dieter I'd say its a indicator of something deeper.**

 **Regardless I will leave up character speculation and what have you the viewer base if you all wish to indulge in such. By just out of curiosity, who is wondering what Dieter's color scheme is going to be? To sate that, at the very least in part I will provide a small hint. It will be fairly unique, as in it has been used in other notable pilot's own personal colors but never in the way that it will be used by Dieter. For example it won't be as if he is just straight up rippling off the Red, Black and Gold of Char's Zaku II Commander model.**

 **Another small hint, it will be a single color.**

 **Anyway the road to Loum continues next chapter in Soldier of Zeon and I do wish you all the best until then!**

 **Please remember to follow, favorite and review!**

 **Till next time**

 **-Reborn Akatsuki**


	9. Prelude to Loum

**AN: Wow here we are at chapter nine, I will not say that I did not expect this day to come but I will say that I am mighty pleased it did. With this chapter we are entering the final stretch of the fic, as I said at the very beginning I never intended this to be a overly long work-fifteen chapters at most and maybe a epilogue but...I have to say this has been the most fun I have had writing in a lot of years. Even with the rather low key reception, I have to say that I am very happy every time I see a review and get to read how people are enjoying this work of mine. Admittedly I'd rather see longer ones detailing just what they like about it besides the fact they do like it, but I am not very picky :P**

 **Anyway before we get to chapter nine we have a little bit to discuss. Work has been keeping me rather busy lately so unfortunately my time for writing is likewise limited. To make matters worse I am working regular third shift gigs, so even my off time is usually spent recouping from staying up all night, I only have a few days off in a week but I am trying to use some of the time towards writing. However with this fic now entering a crucial juncture, it requires better then any sort of half assed measure so I will only be writing when I am confident I can express what I want to see done in the story.**

 **I hope that explains the slightly slower update process, time was I could upload maybe a chapter or two a month, as it stands it will likely have to revert to a once per month cycle. Anyway as the prior AN in the last chapter indicated this is the lead up to Loum and that little battle at Side Five.**

 **Nothing more to say then expect more buildup, character info dumps and what have you.**

 **Disclaimer: Don't own Gundam if I did this would be a serialized manga at the very least or maybe a OVA series**

* * *

 **January 14th, 0079**

 **Tivvay Cruiser: Argus**

 **Briefing Room**

 **1000 Hours**

"Lady Kycilia has reported that the conquest of the Lunar cities is going well, she expects her primary forces to arrive in time to assist with the neutralization of Side Five."

"If all goes well however, Dozle's command group is set to arrive well before her own though. He has been appointed nominal commander of this operation and his forces are slowly trickling in as we speak. That said we have word that several Federation battlegroups including the majority of the garrison from Luna II have disembarked. Their ultimate destination is unknown however...I'd bet my life that they are coming here, Revil is coming to stop the Zeon fleet before the Federation utterly loses all momentum in this conflict." He understood the desperation that the Federation undoubtedly felt here, no doubt they were eager to prevent yet another colony drop for that could only be the purpose in which so much of the Zeon forces were being rerouted. Yet at the same time they were likely to still underestimate them, to the Federation Zeon seemed a ant to be crushed nothing more, much of their forces had never encountered mobile suits and the Federation had no grasp of the marvel of that line of techology.

They would learn.

"So I take it we are simply to wait then?" Drevis grumbled out, no doubt he wasn't keen on waiting for Dozle's main forces to arrive but it was evident that he would arrive far sooner then Kycilia would. He wouldn't begrudge his squadmate his choice in faction no matter if it wasn't his own, after all Drevis undeniably had vested interest in Kycilia securing as much success as possible. He had tied his future to that of her own and while he knew not why the man in question would do that, the result would be plain to see. If Kycilia not only won a victory on the Moon but also here at Side Five she would outstrip Dozle utterly in her utility to the war effort. Yet that seemed not to be the case, he supposed he should take a interest in her own progress and success as well.

No doubt that Dozle wouldn't employ Typhon to its purpose, he would instead make use of his own squadrons, his men would gain the glory and acclaim that would be won in that battle. That would certainly not be his preference, this was shaping up to be perhaps the largest battle to date in the war. To miss it, to miss chance to secure the glory and freedom of Zeon once and for all in a climatic battle against the Federation...He smiled internally at that little of romanticism that leaked into his thoughts, he may have bloodied his hands and even cast aside his humanity for the sake of his people and yet he couldn't disentangle himself from the fanciful trappings of war. There was glory to be found in war, to letting the blood of the enemies of Zeon, even if he had to cast aside everything that had made him what he was before this conflict.

"Yes, until the arrival of Dozle and the reinforcements we are on standby, we have done enough recon to supply the fleet with as much information as we could. No sense in providing the Federation a easy target now that that know we are here." That was likely a good idea given that the last scouting mission they had undertaken a day prior had nearly resulted in a battle once they were detected, they had pieced together enough of the puzzle for the admirality to form a general battle plan.

"Understood but a single question." Dieter stated as he raised his eyes from the file he had been skimming over, the fruit of their efforts-all the data that had been collected of the placement, and size of the forces arrayed against Zeon at Side Five. The Captain in turn seemed to glance over at him before giving a formal nod to indulge his subordinate.

"Are you prepared to fail here?" His tone was uniform, crisp and clear despite the tension that hung beneath the words. He himself was uncertain of his own answer, but perhaps reassurances of a superior would aid him in combating his own doubts. He did not doubt the Zeon military, nor the zeal and devotion he would certainly fly with, he did not doubt the legitimacy of their cause, of their methods or tactics but the simple prospect of victory. Too many times had it been ripped from their fingers when they were within inches of it, at Side One and British the war had been within their grasp to end it at their leisure only for a twist of fate to deny them their victory.

Would this merely be a repeat of that? He had to know, or at the very least know what his newly appointed Captain had to think of the matter. After all Roland like himself, like the rest of this squad had fought since the onset of this war, and even with their differing service histories, differing backgrounds and battles they all likely knew what awaited them at this gathering of forces taking place at Side Five. It would be a defining moment of this conflict, or that was how it appeared on the surface, to him it all stunk of what came before it though...

Initially he had thought the war would burn itself out within the week, yet that time passed, he had thought it would end with the destruction of Side One and yet that fortress of colonies remained largely intact along with their garrisons...He thought the dropping of a colony at British would herald the utter destruction of both the morale and military leadership of the Federation, it failed utterly at both aims. So despite the clear chain of command, despite his supposed dedication to the service of the homeland, he would request this small boon in aid of sheer motivation.

Was it merely reassurance or was his resolve just that weak? Would he fight a battle he knew he was doomed to lose? Would he abandon the men at his side? Comrades, friends? Would he cast them aside with his duty merely to preserve his own life? He had never considered himself the sort to cut and run if the battle, the war turned against them and yet with all the failure surrounding the Principality in the aftermath of the initial start of the war...could he truly be blamed for such thoughts? Did it indicate that he lacked something a proper soldier should? Or was it mere nerves, self preservation, private and traitorous thoughts that all soldiers held but stifled and ignored and did their duty regardless...even at the cost of his own life?

That was why he asked his question, that was why he demanded answers of the one man he knew at the very least had similar thoughts on the scale of this war to himself, the room was cast in silence at his inquery, all of his squadmates eyes shifted from himself to the Captain and back and forth in a procession until the Captain surprised them all by actually acknowledging it.

His Captain then surprised him by not only indulging the request but offering a firm shake of the head in reply.

"Dieter, you should know better then to ask such a thing-victory is never a certainty, never a guarantee. It like life is a fleeting thing sometimes we can only catch glimpses of it, I saw it in the fires of Side One when we battered against that wall of flesh and steel with our own blood until it soaked the stars themselves. Where we lost uncountable comrades, friends and lovers, where we abandoned our battle to focus on what was promised to be the end of the war. That too ultimately ended up in failure, so to answer the question...We will see what history has in store for us all." There was no comfort to be found in those words, no matter how true they may have rang, no matter how the revelation of their chances had been delivered however he was pleased to have been given it.

While it did nothing to answer his own questions that plagued him of motivation, and of what his duty as a soldier truly meant to him...but it did clear the way for something that could bury such thoughts beneath his duty.

The promise of the battle to come. Within battle, where his life was within his own as he fought and killed for the sake of ideals, beliefs and his superiors...he was content within the role of the soldier. Within combat he had no need to wrestle with himself for his own motivations or drives. Within that blood he could be _purified_ if ever so temporarily, he would welcome it in fact.

He would fight, he would kill, he would fly into the fires of battle and death once again. If it was his fate to die in this war, in this coming battle-so be it. He would secure Zeon's dream to his dying breath, he owed it to himself, to the comrades that fought at his side, to those who had fallen, to all those who suffered injustice and suffering because of the Federation's petty ambitions and ideals. To the next generation of Spacenoids, he would give them a homeland which could and forever truly stand as the bastion of humanity, of what it could and was meant to be.

To that end he would continue fighting, killing and struggling onwards towards victory. Regardless of the cost to himself, to his sanity, his body, his very being, he would give up willingly. He had accepted his death when he had first put upon the uniform, or at the very least he had believed himself too...Soldiers who reached old age had failed in their duties, that old adage was something he had heard in his time in the military-and while he was uncertain if he would believe it to be true if he ever made to old age he was certain of one thing.

Whether or not this battle truly would end the war, whether or not it would justify all the death, destruction and horror that had been unleashed upon humanity...was something no one knew yet. It was left to the whims of history, of the accounts of historians portraying this chapter of history would decide how decisive this battle would become in the struggle between the Principality of Zeon and Earth Federation.

He would take part just as he was destined to, and he knew that at the battlefields of Side Five he would truly finally come to understand the true scope and cost of this war. He would finally find the resolve, motivation and determination to finally and forever steel himself to the needs of his people. To once and forever cast off the petty trappings of the base morality, and personality of who and what he had been before becoming a soldier of Zeon. He demanded it of himself, required it, if he was to actually one day lead his people...he could not have _doubt_ , _weakness_ or even more crippling then either of the prior two...disbelief within himself.

If he could not believe in himself, how could he believe in the homeland that had birthed him? If he could not believe in the homeland then why did he strive to achieve its destiny?The circular train of his logic came full circle and revealed the truth he already knew. His life would have no purpose if he was not a soldier, not a warrior and if that reason beyond any other...He would remain such.

* * *

 **January 14th, 0079**

 **Tivvay Cruiser: Argus**

 **Hangar**

 **1600 Hours**

The hangar reeked of fresh paint and it seemingly hung in the air so thick the fumes formed visible clouds of vapor that seemed to cling to the suit as it dried. The process however was complete, the first paint job his custom Zaku had ever received, the honor that would distinguish him apart from the sigil that was now also adorning the craft. Their unit insignia: two descending lines from the Zeon crest-he had been informed of the symbology of the marker. Typhon supposedly had in ancient greek myth resembled a massive collection of serpents and thus the unit named after such a monstrosity would bear a sigil crafted from that artistic rendering.

The lines he supposed were supposed to represent the serpent heads of the beast and the fact they were anchored to Zeon to him just seemed a reminder that even they, a collection of the greatest warriors Zeon had to offer...were subservient to the state. The stark emblem resounded all the more given its bright and almost to his eye-garish color scheme of being goldish yellow on the matte black suit. He had received nothing more then a raised eyebrow at the color choice, his reasoning had been simple. In the darkness of space, he wouldn't stand out overly, so while active sensors and even a observant eye may have been enough to pick out his Zaku from the void, it wouldn't be as easy as the standard green drab of a Zaku fresh off the assembly line. Even beyond that however, the color had struck a cord with him, it always had.

 _Black_ -the very color of his birth, he had born in the darkness of space, lived their all his days and would in all likelihood end his days there regardless of how this war came to end. It was familiar, a reminder of what he fought for, what he fought against. It would be the flag he would carry into battle for the liberation of Zeon, for the liberation of all of Humanity from the corrupt yoke of the Federation. Even so the entire frame couldn't be coated in the layer of coloring, sections of it would need to remain in standard factory coloring and of course his main camera couldn't be reconfigured to operate on a differing lense out here in the field, yet even though the entirety of his suit was not adorned in his custom coloring it was enough.

He would stand out upon the field, from the next day he fought until the last.

His C Type was a solitary hunter even among its other brothers within the hangar, no doubt if he requested it yet even more could be done it then merely changing the color scheme of the suit. Upgrades, adaptions and more were all likely under development within the homeland-the bigheads at Zeonic and Zimmad no doubt even more worked tirelessly to ensure that the newest equipment and gear would be ready for its employ upon the field. Improved thruster arrays, enhanced sensor and armor packages, upgraded weaponry and propulsion systems. All this and more no doubt would be at his behest now with this renown, within this unit no doubt all of them would be entitled to testing out the latest and greatest of the engineering marvels that were being birthed within Zeon.

No doubt the Federation would undoubtedly do the same, from their own collected battlefield data and records a new generation of weaponry would be born for their military. Yet even so Zeon had them helplessly outmatched on this front yet again, they had called mobile suits-impractical, unsuited for battle and yet now were being undone by them. The irony of this situation was no lost on him and yet this was were their societies differed in approach. The Federation walked a differing road, it pioneered not innovation but standardization, rather then testing the boundaries of the existing levels of technology, it would comfortably mass produce a armada based around the same design specifications as the last.

Their approach to _technology_ , just like their belief in _democracy_ , in the right of the _weak_ , the _impure_ and other dregs and castoffs of society to exist...marked them for destruction. Even if they did not seek to hold Zeon in enternal bondage under their thumb, they lacked the vision for the future that Zeon possessed, under them humanity would now and forever stagnate. For this and this alone, they deserved destruction, yet they were not unkind in their willingness to add motivation to hatred of them, their culture, their practice and their belief. Indeed they were only too kind in adding to the myriad of reasons to hate them, to oppose them, to see them wiped from existence.

Adaption, evolution, the path to progress and the future. Zeon strove towards perfection and with every step it grew closer and closer to it, their mobile suits were just the case and point of that. Zeon had taken the tools that had been designed for deep space construction and built a entirely new form of warfare around them, new tactics, strategies, an entire fleet built around supporting these new weapons. Yet even so he felt something within him stir uncomfortably at the notion of taking his Zaku and modifying it, it was one thing to recolor its skin and give it indicators of just who piloted it-it was another to modify its core components and what made the machine its own. He had been gifted this machine, personally by Delaz, it stood as a testament of his ability being recognized by a man one should seek to impress, to change what it was since his first outing with it at the battlefield of Side One was a notion that made his stomach squirm.

Yet even so he couldn't allow nostalgia to blind him, techology would continue to improve, the factory specifications of today would be outdone by those of tomorrow and in the endless march towards progress he couldn't let sentimentality blind him to the perfection they all strove for. His C type would one day no doubt be retried by a newer better model, yet wouldn't it be for the best if it was allowed to live on even if for a bit longer due to improvements that would undoubtedly be made to it? Customization, advancements, upgrades, he wouldn't turn them down, in fact he would seek them out. The Mobile Attack Group made up the bulk of Zeon's military R&D, so for his purposes here he was well within the right place.

In fact...he could grow to enjoy serving Kycilia if it allowed him to blend the line between machine and man just a little finer.

* * *

 **January 14th, 0079**

 **Tivvay Cruiser: Argus**

 **Mess Hall**

 **1800 Hours**

"You see the new bulletins playing on the Zeo Net the other day? All about how it is expected for the war to conclude within a few weeks at most." Emre laughed out as he took a swig of his coffee. His jovial and carefree demeanor a stark contrast with the sheer skill and ruthlessness he piloted his Zaku with. Like most within their grouping it seemed that Emre was no stranger to combat, indeed he seemed to excel in it.

"I was too busy skimming the reports from British-we lost a few ships during that fuckup." Dieter replied evenly as he sipped at his own coffee, his eyes never leaving the various reports that had been hefted upon him and his fellow lieutenant. They had been assigned to ensure that anything and everything that could be needed for the planned offensive to be aboard the ship by the time they were ready to hit vacuum and join in what could quite possibly be the grandest battle of their lives. However at his admission Emre merely shook his head in exacerbation before speaking up once again. "Dieter, I get that you want to be a good little soldier but come on-while we are at war, you should make time for something beyond it." The younger officer stared at his senior evenly before Dieter felt himself grow flush at the point.

It was true he didn't focus on much beyond just the tasks that were foisted upon him day after day, when he wasn't piloting he was undertaking the other assigned responsibilities to him. Yet even so what did he have beyond military life? His family had all but disowned him, he had no lover, wife or children...the military was his existence in simple terms. "You got a girl or wife back home? Shouldn't you be writing to her occasionally, making sure she is still aware your breathing?" His tone was conversational but the message bit deeper, was he abnormal because the Zeon military was his life? He had held no affection for a member of the fairer sex, his last dalliances had in fact been little more then stress relief with some of the few female crew members he had been stationed with and those had happened months ago.

It was not as if he wanted his line to die with him, it was not as if he did not seek affection, love...companionship yet it seemed that it sought to elude him. He had no childhood sweetheart, no long buried love interest, fate had not tore him away from the warm embrace of a lover. It simple seemed to never pan out, his few actual relationships before the military had been overshadowed by the chaos of the era, once the Principality of Zeon had been born it seemed as if actually becoming a capable and strong defender of this newly formed nation were a far more deserving cause then his own personal wants.

Yet he could tell Emre didn't want to hear about his past relationships, if they could even be called such. The man himself was quite happily married, as he would explain to anyone who would even a question even vaguely relating to it. His own daughter had just recently turned three in fact as Dieter himself knew quite well given that he had shown him the interior of his wallet and the myriad of pictures that were stuffed within it. Lieutenant Emre fought for his family as much as his homeland, and he couldn't fault him for that.

No doubt if he had invested so much of himself, of his own future into other people beyond the military he too would cherish such a thing, fight to protect such a thing. Ensure that it would not buried beneath the suffocating might of a uncaring foreign power. _'Yet at the same time, I am glad I have no reason to live beyond myself and my cause.'_ Truth be told, would he even be the same person with such distraction? He fought for himself, killed for himself, his life centered around himself, his nation and his place within it as a warrior.

Because of that he was able to devote himself wholly and utterly to that aim. He became a soldier who could focus solely upon honing himself and his craft, to perfecting his trade. Yet even so, he knew in his heart that this war wouldn't last forever and when Zeon emerged from this conflict as he knew it would as the rightful victor...perhaps then he could look beyond himself, beyond the military, beyond war. Until that day dawned however, he would be a soldier, a lance to be wielded by his superiors, a sword to be swung at the enemies of his nation, a shield to protect the weak of the homeland.

Just as a good Zeon soldier should be.

* * *

 **January 15th, 0079**

 **Tivvay Cruiser: Argus**

 **Primary Recreation Area**

 **1000 Hours**

He swung forward into a punch, his body shifting with him as he made contact with his opponent's chest only to feel the solid and familiar mass of muscle and flesh bend inward, before he could even claim thoughts of landing another blow the return strike followed and he was stung across the cheek as the gloved fist of his opponent scrapped against his scalp as he pulled himself back. The blow while it had not landed solidly did rattle himself what, his ear and face ached in a familiar pain. ' _Got cocky, he's far faster then he looks for someone that big...'_ it reminded him of someone else he had fought regularly years ago.

Sweat dripped down his brow as he circled the larger man, grin adorning his face he couldn't help but marvel at the situation as it sat. While it was true that boxing was a fairly common activity within the Zeon military, both to keep morale and physical fitness up it had been quite a while since he had gotten this level of work out. Not since he had been the personal sparring partner of Dozle Zabi all those years prior when the man become the unofficial boxing champion of Zeon's armed forces, they had fought numerous times, occasionally it was for practice to keep the skills of both sharp and sometimes it was for official matches. Of course it was all monitored and recorded, no one wanted to risk a injury that would interfere with the outcome of a mission or assignment but never the less as the two men hammered into each other increasing ferocity and strength injury became almost assured.

Poulin pulled no punches and as his haymaker slammed into his guard that he had barely had time to bring up, he felt the vibrations echo across his gloved hands into the bones of his arms. This technician and pilot likely could split rivets with his bare hands if the mood struck but even so...he fought powerful men before and held his own, and while Poulin's strength and size was impressive he was nothing compared to Dozle. Indeed while Poulin had a head over him in height, Dozle had towered over him by nearly ten inches, and had possessed considerably more muscle to his bulky frame then Poulin likely could support. Yet even so he couldn't fight off the sensation of numbness that rebounded within his limbs with every impact, even as he lurched forward his right fist raised upward in a jab he knew that he was outclassed in both reach and raw strength.

However as sweat and blood stained the darker man's own face, it was clearly not as one sided as he had expected coming into his fight. Lips curling into a vicious grin he launched forward, pivoting on the balls of his feet and throwing every bit of weight into the momentum of the strike as it launched forward into the expecting man's guard-however that was when he heard the call to attention yet the blow was thrown even as it pummeled through his opponent's guard and into his jaw he could do nothing expect recall his own wearied limb back to his side after it was already over. Poulin staggered under the impact, groaning out in pain even as he tried to steady himself on his feet.

Their eyes met for a brief moment and both men gave a weary smile to each other as they stepped back tiredly. Running his fist beneath his nose and wiping away drying and wet blood he let out a groan of exhaustion, while he was not some unfit sloth like those who dwelled within the Earth Federation-nor was he a professional athlete, he was a soldier. Even so he was not in a physically intensive field such as infantry so his own personal regime had devolved from his Academy days, he kept himself fit, strong and able but the majority of his exercises were based around boosting reactivity and ensuring his own body didn't fail from the strain of piloting.

Clearly Poulin approached his training quite differently and the resulted showed...his fists, his arms, even his shoulders still ached from where he had guard against repeated blows from his fellow pilot and technician. The man was a mountain of muscle such as it was and despite his own blows inflicting fairly obvious signs of damage to his face and chest where bruises and blood still stained the larger man's frame...Dieter felt as if he had just fought against a Salamis with his bare hands.

"Good punch Kries..." Poulin groaned out as he massaged his jaw while he simultaneously he spat out his mouth guard as their superior-the _Captain_ approached the two.

"Yeah...yeah, you too." He grumbled out as he tried to force his body to attention to show proper respect to a superior officer while at the same trying to remove his own guard to allow him to speak with out mumbling or stuttering, a task all the harder due to the blood that was present within the interior of his mouth making the piece of hardened plastic all the slicker in the moist cavern of his mouth. With a firm grip he unclasped the piece of plastic before casting it to the floor and refocusing his energy.

It took him a moment to steady himself but he brought his hand shakily to his brow in salute as Roland returned the gesture a mere half second later. "At ease, both of you." He commanded as he and Poulin both let themselves drop to the deck. It was one thing to engage in a match and then have a bit of recovery time, it was yet another to be expected to return to duty the minute after it had been called to a stop. The Captain eyed both the now sitting men with what seemed to be a cross between amusement and annoyance before he spoke again. "Be ready to disembark the Argus within the hour, Delaz has arrived at Side Five and is hailing us to come aboard the Gwadan." While that was hardly the most informative command he had received in his service he would comply.

Not to mention it would be good to see the Captain again and perhaps if he was lucky Delaz would not hold his transfer against him too harshly. After all it was not by his decree that he had left the Space Attack Force, no he had all like the rest of his unit, been picked from other detachments, even other service branches. It was all beyond him, yet even so he knew that the loathing between the Gihren and Kycilia factions within the military ran strong.

"Understood sir, I will be ready." He let out weakly as he clambered once more to his feet. He felt muscles within his back seize in argument against the sudden movement only to silence them out with sheer willpower and stubbornness. He would be ready if he was needed, Roland hadn't given any reason why they were to suddenly leave the Argus but that meant nothing. He followed orders, he was a soldier after all.

"Dieter..." He heard the call as he began to stagger towards the exit of the rec room. Turning his head back in reply he noted that Poulin had risen to his own feet and was giving him a rather blank look.

"You fight pretty well for someone so little." He said in a tone and with eyes that both shone with humor despite the beating they had inflicted upon each other mere minutes ago.

He snorted in reply and almost cried out when the act caused his sinuses to erupt once more in a flow of blood that trickled out weakly from his nose. "Yeah, and you hit pretty hard for a techie too Greg." He shot back his own grip on his nose muffling his grousing. _'Doesn't seem to be broken but it likely isn't far from it in this state...yeah I will be feeling this for a few days.'_ While he was still within the prime of his youth, his body showed fatigue and reaction to pain that it hadn't mere years prior. Even so it was not as if he was some old man, just yet he hadn't even reached thirty years of age after all but still...

The inescapable rigors of age reminded him in this very moment of his mortality, the fact that they were soon to be embarking upon a conquest of Side Five was just another reminder that no one knew when their time would finally be up. Yet even so he wouldn't pass off the responsibilities and expectations assigned to him. He had to live up to the recognition, the distinction, the honor that had been given to him in reward for his service. He would become the symbol of fear to the Federation, the sigil of Zeon's valor and skill upon the battlefield.

* * *

 **January** **15th, 0079**

 **Gwazine Battleship: Gwadan**

 **Primary Hangar Bay**

 **1200 Hours**

Being summoned back to the Gwadan when it had entered the sector had come as a surprise to him, and presumably the entire unit however he was confident there was a reason for it. Despite his new branch of service being independent of the Space Attack Force, it was still good to heed the call of a man like Captain Delaz. However when they had boarded the ship they found it filled with hushed rumors and speculation of just what was going to occur today, this left him and the rest of his unit on edge understandably. With their primary forces arriving in the sector and rumors of yet more Federation forces streaming from every rock in the solar system towards Side Five, undeniably this would be the greatest battle of the war to date. Yet that wasn't what people spoke of it, aboard the ship they spoke of high value personage coming aboard the Gwadan later within the day, nothing more then that was specified and it mattered little who they ask, it was unlikely any save Delaz knew with certainty.

Yet that didn't prevent him from forming his own thoughts on the matter-clearly whomever it was a massively important figure within the Zeon military and yet he couldn't account for who exactly it might have been. Admiral Karn returning from his campaign at Side Two? Kycilia returning from the moon? Dozle? While had heard that Admiral Dozle was due at the front that was to break out here at any time that likely wouldn't occur until far later given that they weren't expecting the arrival of a fleet, just a single personage...who could it be? Of course this like all speculation was based upon information that was hastily thrown together, filled with inaccuracies and based around assumptions? Indeed it seemed speculation abounded of just the overall state of things as far as who this mysterious personage was, where the other Zeon forces were, if they would receive enough forces to actually offset the Federation? As it stood they possessed almost a quarter of the strength they had Side One, if the Federation tried to dig in like they did at the other front however, they wouldn't have enough forces to displace them, not without resulting to new strategies.

The few hours they spent aboard the Gwadan were filled with operational reports and status updates, it was clear that this would be the battle to decide who would rule space, while the Federation forces had them decidedly outnumbered with the collapse of their control at all Sides save One and Zeon now contesting their control of the moon itself, they had the momentum of this war firmly in their grip. However what had been mundane updates on the progress of the war as a whole shifted into a new spectrum once all hands aboard the ship were ordered to report to the launch bay, clearly whomever Delaz had been awaiting had arrived thus Typhon abandoned their skimming over document after document reporting loss and kill ratio-in a ultimately futile effort to understand the greater scope of this conflict.

Instead they like all over available personal reported down into the bowels of the massive vessel, while he had deployed from this very hangar numerous times it still him aback at the sheer size of the construct. The largest class of battleship ever constructed to date by the Principality, within its massive hangar block and it could comfortably store upwards of twenty mobile suits, nearly eight entire squads of Zaku. Yet it was vacant today, it was something he had noted when the shuttle they had come aboard the vessel from the Argus had docked, he had simply put it at the time due to the entire compliment being sent out to secure their rearward lines and screen for incoming friendly forces yet it seemed something more was at work here today.

 _'Someone needed room.'_ Whatever, whomever was coming into today likely had a large escort, or perhaps the craft they were using required the space? The Gwazine's primary hangar could seemingly fit nearly anything within it so he wouldn't be surprised if it would dock within the ship itself rather then merely attaching to a ventral launch as was common between warships. Save anything perhaps besides Musai, Chivvay or Zanzibar, it would fit. So there they stood, a procession of soldiers, men of the mobile attack group, space attack force, navy, marine alike. Technicians, infantrymen, and assorted crew for the warship, all awaiting the arrival of this VIP. With of course Captain Delaz at the head of the group, gossip, chitchat and cigarettes were spent passing the minutes as he merely glanced downward at his normal suit's inbuilt chrono before letting out a held breath it was noon-they still had to make preparations for the main offensive once the primary forces arrived, so far they had been trickling in over the prior days but a general battle plan and method of engagement had not been set down.

Perhaps with this arrival, that would change but he wouldn't hold his breath, likely whomever was incoming was merely there to convey orders from the homeland, Admiral Kycilia and Dozle were still tied up in their respective fronts, not expected for at least another day, so as his prior thoughts combatted each other, just who could this be? He honestly hadn't a clue, perhaps it would be the youngest of Zabi's Captain Garma, last he had heard he had been leading forces to secure Granada with a express path towards Von Braun but if his sister was there, it was tieing up two commanders when one would serve. He had never directly worked with Garma, so if that happened to be the case, he wouldn't be opposed to it, he had heard through the gripe vine as such things went that Garma was actually a relatively competent and skilled battlefield commander. His score of victories securing vast swaths of the moon in short order certainly seemed to lend credence to that belief yet even so he wouldn't expect Garma to arrive in this fashion.

It didn't strike him as the younger Zabi's style, unannounced until the last minute, no one informed of who exactly he was? No that didn't strike him as the type of man Garma was, he loved the fanfare and adulation of his people. When he had graduated from the Academy it resulted in a massive outpouring of congratulations and cheers for his success, he was well loved by the people. So surely the military PR department would try to spin anything relating to him to boost morale back in the homeland, yet this line of thought brought no comfort even though he had eliminated a possible identity for this individual. However it soon seemed he would find his answer when Delaz turned to a adjutant who had apparently had a line to the bridge and had reported a Komusai Shuttle of all things was requesting clearance to dock with barely a handful of seconds of warning to pressurize normal suits and prepare for hard vacuum the launch bay opened revealing the dark gray of the shuttle as it approached rapidly speeding through the blackness of the void with the crisp and controlled precision of a veteran pilot at the helm. The shuttle was nondescript except for the standard well worn sigil of Zeon adorning the tail fins it looked like like any other transport shuttle within the fleet. But as it slowed its decent and lowered its landing gear he couldn't help but feel upon edge and soon he realized why-the hangar had yet to close and barely a heartbeat after that realization occurred the shuttle's escort arrived.

Twin Zaku's painted in the standard green drab of the Principality landed gracefully beside their escort as the bay doors began to retract. He tried to identify some definitive marking or unit designation upon the models but it was difficult within the crowd, even as a officer he had several lines of people ahead of him but when the lead Zaku turned towards the crowd revealing its frontal chasis his heart seemingly stopped within its chest. He knew in that moment his face was one of pure disbelief, upon that Zaku rested one of the rarest and yet at the same time most well recognized emblems within the entire Zeon military, he had seen it before at parades, national speeches, military mobilizations and more... stenciled in jet black in stark contrast to the dark green of the armor of the C Type was the Zeon Home Defense Corps' Griffon emblem.

"Well this is certainly interesting." Emre stated amicably, even without turning to his squad member he knew that the jovial pilot had a grin adorning his place. It was obvious that he grasped the implications here and yet at the same time seemed not at all put off by the sudden arrival of a unmarked shuttle being escorted by the finest soldiers within the entire Principality. Indeed his other squad member's reactions would fall far more in line with his own in terms of disbelief and shock at the their appearance and the prospect of just _who_ awaited all these assembled soldiers within that Komusai.

"The _Royal_ Fuckin _Guard_ Here?!" Poulin exclaimed at the prospect just as it rolled through his own mind. Only comprised of the greatest pilots, soldiers and service personal within the entire military, the elite units stationed at Side Three, only to be deployed when the royal family itself decreed or was itself in transit. They operated both as _Special Forces_ and _Bodyguards_ to the royal family. Which meant that the person aboard that Komusai aboard was...

" _Lord_ _Gihren_." Drevis spat with a mixture of disdain and contempt. He eyeballed his fellow pilot for a handful of seconds tempted to smack his helmeted head for daring to speak so frankly about their commander and chief, the supreme commander of all of Zeon's military but ultimately decided against it. Disciplining the Petty Officer could come later, but it was clear that the man who originally hailed from Kycilia's forces held the heir apparent to Sovereign Degwin Zabi in the same regard as the man's sister did. The docked shuttle slowly began lowering its own outward ramp allowing passengers to disembark, seemingly just as soon as it hit the deck normally clothed officers and servicemen poured outward of the shuttle. The Komusai was hardly the largest transport craft within the fleet but even so as four openly armed soldiers, each of whom bore the same striking emblem of the Griffon upon their shoulder strolled out of the ship forming two thin lines on each side of the ramp he couldn't help but marvel at the precision and fluidity of their movement.

These were the best Zeon had to offer, units like his own-the newly formed Typhon may have been put together to comprise the best of the best of the normal forces, but the Royal Guard was the next stage up. These were individuals who were pegged during basic who showed immense talent and ability and of course the needed devotion to be selected for such a distinguished post. The next man to walk down the ramp however was not the expected one of the hour, it wasn't Commander Gihren instead a modestly tall man, his features bore the same aristocratic outline of Drevis, striking blond hair and angular features not uncommon with the ruling caste within Side Three. His uniform marked him as a Lieutenant Colonel within normal forces of the Zeon military but his shoulder patch identified him as the commander of the Royal Guard.

It took him precious seconds to place the rather notable figure, always at Gihren's side during speeches and rallies, always present in the background. Perhaps his closest confidant save Delaz himself and one of the most legendary pilots within the newly formed Mobile Suit Divisions, one of the heroes of Side Six during its liberation campaign two years prior.

 **Eric Mansfield**. Dieter considered himself a fair enough pilot, he was skilled and durable enough to actually pilot a mobile suit without succumbing to the strain it placed upon the body, he was accomplished enough to even have his own custom color scheme awarded to him along with a medal to that effect and yet here was the man he was meant to be compared to one of the pilots hand selected by the Zabi family to entrust their very lives to him, one of the commanders of the homeland defense force and one of the most acclaimed graduates of the Zum City Academy. Yuuka had once asked if he had ever distinguished himself upon the field prior to this war, he had responded truthfully at the time, his skill was recognized by the homeland in the regard that he had been selected to carry out strafing runs within a Gobble Fighter during the anti Zabi revolts the prior year. Yet here was a man who surely outclassed him in every regard, he had flown at Side Six, was the personal aide and bodyguard of Gihren Zabi and if he ever again took the field against the Federation he would surely make them bleed far more then he could ever hope to.

Yet the legendary pilot was not the last to depart the vessel even as the Lieutenant Colonel made his way off the ramp another figure slowly descended down it, dressed in his tailored military regalia of black and gold the Supreme Commander of the entirety of Zeon's military looked every bit as impressive as he did during the last mobilization prior to the outbreak of the war. A small and angular smile adorned his lips, it was thin and somehow came across as cruel never the less as his eyes scanned the men that awaited him within the hangar cheers erupted from the bulk of it. Cries of _Zabi_ , echoed throughout the massive chamber even as his darkened boots hit the deck of the ship, of course with the majority of those being assembled here being the personal crew of Captain Delaz himself along with attaches from the Space Attack Force the greeting was no surprise. Thunderous cheers all but rocked the ship, clearly Drevis's less then stellar opinion of their Supreme Commander wasn't shared or if it was, it wasn't announced so vocally.

With a simple raise of the hand, the Supreme Commander saluted the assembled soldiers of the Principality. With another outcry the gesture was returned, even he raised his own right hand straightened it outward. "Sieg Zeon!" He proclaimed along with dozens of others even as Drevis looked unimpressed even as he was forced into performing it along with him. _'He doesn't want to be sent back to the homeland in a casket.'_ Certainly failure to properly address the Supreme Commander of their nation, the second most powerful figure within it properly would be seen as a flagrant disregard of the chain of command resulting expulsion from the military, and likely court martial. If he was lucky. Yet he couldn't help but not understand Drevis's position, he bore the look of the nobility, the upper class-if that was the case then did the hostility towards Gihren solely stem from him being under Kycilia? In all likelihood he shared some familial connection with the Zabi family as most of the noble houses of Zeon did.

The leader of their people surveyed his forces for another moment before signalling Delaz forward where they began to confer with each other. He had no idea what they were talking about, but he'd bet his entire savings that it had something to do with the planned offensive in Side Five. After all Commander Gihren wouldn't travel all this way just to meet with the troops, this planned operation must have been extremely important and sensitive for him to come this far. Did that mean that British would be repeated or was this merely the prelude to another gambit by Zeon? His muses were cut off when Captain Roland gripped his shoulder and forced him to turn, his eyes met that of his superior just as he popped the clasps on his own helmet and spoke softly into his ear.

"The fleet is arriving tonight, be ready to move out by 1900 Hours." The Captain had been present for the arrival of Gihren Zabi, yet he hadn't gone anywhere, indeed he had been standing in line with the rest of their unit for the entire time. So where did this information come? As if reading his thoughts the Captain merely rapped a gloved fist against his helmet and Dieter instantly realized he must have been in communication with the Gwadan's own bridge as they tracked incoming arrivals.

Yet with the arrival of the primary fleet at Side Five, this showdown with the Federation, the next stage of the war was all but set.

From across the hangar Gihren's bodyguard caught his eye and they merely regarded each other for a moment before the Lieutenant Colonel interposed himself between Delaz and Supreme Commander Gihren as he whispered into his ear causing the heir apparent to Zeon to openly frown before giving a stern nod of the head. Before approaching the crowd of soldiers, hands grasped behind his back he spoke earnestly, and with a zealous energy that made the man a master orator. "My people, I have just been informed that the Federation is in fact sending reinforcements to Side Five as we speak here-yet have no fear we will prevail. Our retribution against the accursed people of Earth has only just begun and it is through your strength, your will that we will emerge victorious." His eyes scanned the chamber, his figure slackening before propelling into the next stage of his addressal.

"We have bloodied the beast of the Federal military, inflicted grievous losses to them and their interests within space, the purity of humanity requires this. For humanity to reach the next level, the next stage of evolution this is needed. Much of Side Two and Four are rubble for this exact reason, not only the Federation presence within the sectors but all those who sought shelter beneath its banner! We have shown them the weight of Zeon's justice, the conviction, we the superior race of Zeon carry into battle." The energy within the room was becoming tense, doubts and fears were being washed away by the weight of the son of Degwin Zabi's words.

"And the victory we will win at Side Five will be the proof of our claim, the final severance of the chains that bind the Federation to space. To that end I have approved Dozle's request, the reserve forces from Solomon are being ferried here as I speak to you here now, some two thousand Zaku II mobile suits and upwards of an additional sixty combat worthy warships to contain this undeniable force. " Roland had spoke the truth then, this was going to be it.

Zeon's all or nothing gambit to win the war, Side Five- _Loum_ would decide the fate of this war.

The Federation forces within the colony itself would undoubtedly be bolstered by reinforcements, indeed he'd be surprised if the garrison itself wasn't already being mobilized. Zeon's objective could only be concealed so long and with so much of their military force being directed here, with forces even outstripping those that had took part in the assault on Side One or _British_ , the time they could hide their plan from their enemies had come to a end.

Thus far this fleet only contained within a little over a dozen warships, and with the incoming fleets from other sectors and the reinforcements promised to Dozle by Gihren, this armada they were forming would easily be the largest force Zeon had ever assembled in the entirety of its history. _Two thousand_ mobile suits...just a few dozen had fought evenly against the Federation at Side One or Two, what could more then two thousand accomplish? He knew the answer already within his heart.

Win this war, once and for all.

* * *

 **AN: Well there we have it the lead up to Loum, the legendary battle of the onset of war and the greatest naval conflict in the entire war until its conclusion at A Baoa Qu many months later. All the players had come upon the stage, the setting is prepared and all we need do now is merely await the grand finale of this arc of the story. Next time on Soldier of Zeon we will witness the actions of Typhon at Side Five, the first unveiling of Dieter's custom black Zaku II C in combat and perhaps my favorite element that will be present is the sheer scope of the conflict. While I depicted the battles at Side One and British as fairly large fleet engagements comprised of dozens to hundreds of warships, this is the next step up from that. Zeon is literally committing around half of its total military power to this battle and the Federation is doing even more then that, hundreds of Salamis and Magellan class warships, combatted by scores of Musai, Chivvay and Gwazine. Not to mention this is the largest gathering of mobile suits in perhaps the entire war for a single offensive for the Zeon campaign.**

 **According to several sources I have read over the years from the Gundam entertainment bible, to individual kit descriptions and what have to actual context and details given in source material such as Igloo or various manga this is going to be a hell of show and I plan to live up to that. I hope that I am up to the task of accurately depicting such a event, expect lengthy battle scenes next chapter, entire paragraphs devoted to fleet movements and offensive and defensive formations. I hope to cover this battle as precisely and detailed as possible, because perhaps save the conclusion of the story itself, this is likely the defining moment in Soldier of Zeon. This is where Dieter earns his nickname, Typhon is recognized as a legitimate military unit and so much more. Trust me as important as this battle is to the direction of the overall pace of the One Year War it is equally important to this fic, so the next chapter will basically solely revolve around it.**

 **As I write this author's note be aware that so far it is likely to be the longest single chapter of this fic to date just because of the scale of what I want to do with it.**

 **Anyway I will cut this off here, please remember to favorite, follow and review.**

 **Until next time in Soldier of Zeon**

 **-Reborn Akatsuki**


	10. The Battle of Loum

**AN: Well...Chapter ten. The battle of Loum, the moment that I have been preparing to write since this fic started because until another Operation in January this is what this story has been leading to. Typhon is going to be deployed alongside thousands of others, half of Zeon's total military power is being committed to this operation and while this battle has unfortunately a knack for conflicting information given by its various sources I have tried my best to limit these factors in the chapter. I have taken what will work for this story, and cast aside what will not, for example the total commitment of Zeon's reserves by Gihren(although some sources claim Dozle) has led to this being a battle that will contain literally thousands of mobile suits.**

 **It won't be until the very end of the war where you will see Zeon fielding anywhere near that many suits for a single battle(A Baoa Qu) and I wanted to give this battle its due. Its why I have focused and skimmed every bit of material I could find relating to it, and added my own personal touches here and there. However if you are expecting a alternative history outtake of this battle, prepare to be disappointed, it will end how it ended in canon. Moving along, I don't want to stress the length of this chapter in particular as a motivation to be impressed with it, but I will state that I only made it as long as I did due to the fact that various points of the battle that featured Typhon needed to be explored.**

 **Even then there are portions that I cut out due to me finding them somewhat out of place, they may be featured in later chapters if I feel the need but I make no promises on that front. On to the progress of the story itself, well there is only a straight shot to the finale now and what comes after. I am still undecided if I am planning to do a sequel or not, I am sure people will be content to tell me their opinion once the story actually concludes and they see where it is left. That said I have several One Shots in the works to act as a sort of sequel to the story, featuring various points throughout the war from familiar faces.**

 **On another point I would like to say that I am quite happy about receiving my fifth review for this story and would like to personally thank everyone who has followed, favorited and of course reviewed. Truth be told our little community is small, and I am glad that at the very least I gave something to read to those who make it up.**

 **A final point of thanks goes to Merela in assisting me with this chapter in a fairly involved way, I do appreciate the help. Even though all I asked you was for something simple, none the less you obliged my inane request and I am grateful.**

 **Anyway this is dragging on and no doubt those who are reading this would rather be seeing what is down below then my rambling, so lets get to it shall we?**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam, nor do I plan to profit from this although if someone from Sunrise is reading this and happens to take a interest in it...well I am open to offers of employment, I would love to turn this little fanfic of mine into a OVA series :P Or maybe a manga...call me! Please...please don't rip this off and let me find out about when its released and I find all the core concepts and characters are the same and only the names and dates have changed...That probably would ruin me.**

 **Ha! Here I am pining like a babe in the woods about something with the chances of happening being so numerically insignificant, I likely have a better chance of being taken hostage during a armed robbery and somehow being struck dead by lightning during the event. Still...It would be cool if someone with official impact on the Gundam series taking a interest in my work, to the point of offering compensation for the sake of writing out a script for a proper telling of it.**

 **Anyway this is my longest disclaimer yet and well...I apologize for that, in fact I am half tempted to delete this and probably would if I myself didn't find it funny.**

* * *

 **Columbus Carrier: Bermuda, January 15th 0079**

 **1700 Hours**

 **Third Federation Fleet under the command of Captain Entan Strous**

 **700 Kilometers from Side Five's outermost colonies**

Meryl O'Sullivan was still unused to the lack of gravity within the vacuum of space. Indeed less then a week prior to this she had still been flying a FF-6 Tin Cod back on Earth, that aging series of fighter craft had been something she'd practically grown up around in the decade leading up to the war given that her father had been one of the principal designers of the original prototype's engine back in 0062. Of course her preference would have been to stay upon Earth, she had lived her life without stepping beyond the bounds of humanities collective birthplace and would have been content for nevering leaving it but then...then Zeon had declared war.

The Earth Federation despite possessing a overwhelming military advantage was caught flat footed as Zeon blitzed across the stars and overwhelmed everything in their way, entire fleets, colonies, Sides were lost to the savagery that Zeon unleashed upon the Federation. _Tens of millions, Hundreds of millions, Billions_ perished in such a short time it seemed as if it was some sort of cosmic joke, humanity was coming undone at the seams, Earth may have been home to less then three billion people these days and the majority of the human population may have dwelt within space but for Zeon to haphazardly throw their own species to wind the like this-it was **monstrous** , **unforgivable**. And there was nothing they could do about it, despite the enormous Federal military Zeon seemed to never stop pushing, never stop pressing ever forward, inch by inch they lay claim to everything the Federation had built, everything it controlled. Entire Sides went dark in the space of weeks, entire battle groups were routed in transit to reinforce positions, then **British** came.

Without warning or hesitation Zeon loosed a colony upon Earth itself. That colony had been aimed at the very heart of the Federal military, Jaburo and it had been only by the slimmest of margin had it been deflected away from landing a blow that undoubtedly would have decapitated much of the upper echelons of the military high command. That was when she had made a pledge to herself, she would not sit around on Earth awaiting the next colony to fall. She would not do nothing in the face of Zeon's blatant aggression, she had requested transfer and with the depleted ranks of the Earth Federation's space forces being to be refilled seemingly every day now, it hadn't taken more then a handful of days for that to be approved.

Next thing she knew she had been transferred out of her outfit in the Continental Midwestern North America Territory and shuttled upwards to Luna II where a new fleet mobilization was just getting underway. She traded away her Tin Cod for Saberfish and flew her first sortie in it just a scarce few days prior to now. As it stood they knew what Zeon had planned for Side Five, they had mobilized a ridiculous portion of their military power, had ceased activity at the majority of all other fronts and were focusing singularly on this one objective.

It was painfully obvious that they were attempting yet colony drop. Yet with the way the Federation was reeling at the moment, if they failed to stop them from hijacking yet another colony, would they have the strength to prevent its drop to Earth if they actually got it going? As it stood now they had the strength to shatter the Zeon armada and send it reeling back to Side Three, this bloody affair could be ended here and now, before the tide turned too far in the favor of Zeon.

The fact that Zeon was actually winning this war at least on the strategic level was unbelievable but that was where they stood now.

She gazed absently out through the viewport into the hangar below where four Saberfish her's included were being loaded with the needed fuel and munitions to be ready for the battle that was surely about to break out within the cluster in mere hours. She didn't want to be here, she felt fear reeling its ugly head whenever she thought of just what sort of monsters the people of Zeon must be for what they had done to their own brethren in space, what they had attempted to do...to the people of Earth. The colony may have missed Jaburo but it had still struck ground, Sydney had been wiped from the map, now nothing more then fire and ash and a crater larger then any other on Earth remained.

But she knew she was needed here, fighter pilots of any considerable skill were all being pulled together for this operation and the fact she had been flying for the better part of a half decade lended her some credence on her own view of her ability. She reached upwards the plain collar of her uniform smoothing out the creases that had formed in transit from the ship's onboard commissary. The rank patch of a full lieutenant adorned the standard length collar, she wasn't high enough on the pecking order to actually be issued anything more fanciful then her own dress regs so she had long ago resigned herself to wearing either plain issue BDU's or officer's fair. When she wasn't piloting of course, then that cumbersome outfit that restricted movement and had to be kept to perfection if you didn't want your ear yelled off by a ranking officer came free and she wore the skin tight flight suit that had been standard issue for the Federation for nearly fifty years.

But that was dirtside back at home, up here she was forced to wear one of the clunky and suffocating normal suits.

...The same clothing that those Zeon no doubt wore while they butchering their fellow man in the name of their ' _Sovereign_ '.

Degwin Zabi was a monster who had unleashed this war, and it was up to people like here to put him and his boys in the ground.

At Side Five they would start the process of that, and she wouldn't stop until she kicked that old bastard off his throne and into the grave he should have crawled into decades before.

Yellowed highlights sagged under the bright lighting the of the observation room and she had to stop herself from frowning, she put her hair through so much-wearing a helmet or officer's cap all the time, now being forced to wear a pressurized rig to maintain peak body acclimatization, it was a small and vain thing to worry about but she had always been proud of her hair. Her father had said that it made her look almost angelic and for a devout Catholic like him, that had been the highest praise she'd likely ever pry out of the old man.

She wiped the sweat the fell from her brow with a practiced hand, she would never get used to just how stuffy the interior of a warship could be, this being her first assignment on one in the entirety of her career with the Federation. Even though she had left it of her own volition, even though she knew she was needed she missed her other comrades at the base in Nebraska, but hell she had missed home when she had enlisted and they had promptly sent her across a ocean. She hadn't seen Ireland for the better part of two years now, but hopefully after this war ended she'd get to return to it and Dublin. She buried the pangs of loneliness and yearnings for a homeland she might not live to see beneath the practiced veneer of a veteran pilot.

Fists clenched until knuckles whitened from the strain, she was stronger then this, it didn't matter what Zeon had in store for Loum.

They would stop it, had to stop it.

Her thoughts were cut off as klaxons resounded across the ship and the lighting promptly shifted to red, they were entering combat.

It was time.

* * *

 **Side Five, January 15th 0079**

 **1900 Hours**

 **Inner Colony Array, 11th designated Colony**

 **78th Independent Mobile Suit Combat Battalion (Informally under the command of Captain Roland, Mobile Attack Group)**

 **MS-06C Zaku II**

Thrusters burning brightly within the darkness propelled his Zaku against the mass of the rotating cylinder, this was to be the crown glory of Zeon. With the _nuclear pulse device_ being transported to the front of their newly forming lines of Side Five, they had taken all the needed steps to avoid this devolving into a bitter and costly siege. Nearly fifty warships and upwards of around sixty mobile suits had been lost fighting the Federation during the intense battles at Side One, on this day however they would show them the new resolve Zeon carried into their struggle. One this day, they would fight under their own direction, their battle would be dictated by their own strengths and not play into the hands of the Federation's superior numbers or positioning.

Yet it was not as if they were here because they would abhor to use these colonies as target practice, or even shields, after all they had come to seize another colony-another drop operation was undoubtedly already within the planning stages. Yes while the resistance so far had been minimal indeed the familiar pickets on the outskirts of the colonies had been undermanned to the extreme, he was content that the Federation had abandoned positions, no doubt they were using this time to link up with the primary forces in route to Side Five but so what? Nothing would change the outcome of this battle, sheer mathematics would give the Federation a undeniable advantage if not for one factor.

Mobile Suits, nearly three thousand were present here at Side Five. Upwards of two thousand from the reserve forces and the remainder being the surviving teams and forces from the prior engagements at Side One, Two and Four. Yes with this massive host merely awaiting the command to be unleashed he wasn't ill at ease at the outcome of this battle, the only thing the Federation could do to them this day would be a pain before its destruction. Yet at the same time, he was somewhat concerned at the approach Dozle had taken upon his entry to the field here, ordering the fleet forward while stationing the Mobile Suits to the rear lines? While in theory this would allow them to gauge any enemy opposition and strength...it also left them in the position to where they could simply be cut off from those reserve forces, with the majority of the Mobile Suits still awaiting launch orders from the fleet, they were in a position where if the Federation played their cards right they might prove more then a mere annoyance.

However he knew he was merely being overly cynical, if anything he was overestimating the Federation. There would be little chance for them to interpose themselves into their battle strategy that effectively, they simply couldn't count the overwhelming power and mobility gifted to Zeon by their mobile suits. Yet those Mobile Suits, the majority of them sat upon the rear lines, in fact he could count the number of MS teams assigned to the forward makeup of the fleet with both hands. Their own Battalion was one of only three that were actually assigned to await the arrival of the Pulse Engine...Dozle wanted this to be a overwhelming victory, to that end he was banking on the Federation assaulting their formation with their standard mass attack. The attack would be aimed at splintering their forces, and sending them into disarray where they could be routed in detail yet Dozle aimed for this as he had prepared the forward lines of the Zeon fleet with a surprise.

The battlefield would be blanketed in M particles the minute the Federation attacked, destroying the networking infrastructure of the enemy from the hilt up. Their entire command structure would be isolated, each and every battlegroup would have to make do with their the authority and strategic insight that their individual commanders possessed...it would shatter the enemy armada and allow the defeat Dozle wished to inflict upon them, and without reliance on the ' _generosity_ ' of Supreme Commander Gihren. No doubt he would deny it if asked, but if Dieter was questioned upon his own opinion of the state of things...Dozle was insulted that Gihren had greenlight the deployment of the reserve forces from Solomon, the majority of Zeon's offensive power was now deployed against the Federation, if this battle went awry then it very would could spell the end for Zeon's ambitions of freedom, it was bold, and brash. While Dozle could hardly be argued as a conservative mind when it came to military affairs, no doubt he believed that unleashing the reserves was a unneeded act, but he couldn't go against Gihren, not in this.

So with their fleet arriving in sector, divisions were sent ahead to secure the designated colony for the _Second Drop_ operation. Resistance so far was minimal, a handful of skirmishing ships that had fled rather then fight their advance despite their relative small number. Yet he knew they couldn't bank on such skittish behavior for very much longer, the Federation wouldn't fight a battle it knew it could lose, so it would concentrate its strength and become a fist to break the Zeon military in half here and now. Still their reluctance to fight gave them time, time enough for the transport carrying the nuclear pulse device to arrive. It would take at the very least three of those powerful engines to accelerate the colony fast enough to interlock on a immediate trajectory with Earth like what happened at Side One...in the aftermath of British he had become all too familiar with the construction, usage and utility of such technology.

"Captain, any word on when we should expect the supply ships?" He keyed out through his commline. Reclining back into the plush seat of his armored canopy he merely awaited direction, he was nervous, had doubts, had misgivings and they would plague him until this operation truly got underway. Yet he knew they would disappear the moment he was thrown into the fray, when all he had between him and death was a few small feet of armored plating and his own ability and skill. He hoped that this day would purge him of such dissent, when Zeon won the day, when Zeon won this battle, when it finally achieved what it sat out to then there would be truly no room within his heart for self doubt.

"They are expected within the next thirty minutes, don't be impatient Kries, we have time on our side in this endeavor. Our own fleet still needs to form up its lines and set positions, once that is done, its inconsequential how long we wait for the colony to be repurposed for the operation." Roland's smooth and commanding words reminded him of the sheer authority that the man could project when he so chose to. It was inspiration, if Roland suffered any of his doubts, any of the misgivings that plagued him, they were buried beneath his sheer willpower. Yet at the same time, he could not help but recall the briefing the prior day when the Captain had seemed earnest in his own belief that he was unsure of their victory.

Yet here he was, prepared to fight and die regardless of not being content with the possible outcome. Once again Roland was a model soldier for any Zeon to aspire to.

He himself would have to cement his resolve, to steel himself for what was to come and submerge himself into the blood of his enemies and be washed clean within it.

He would be reborn in the blood spilled from this victory, he would become the arbiter for victory for his people, he would prove himself worthy of the distinction foisted upon him. He would prove that this black paint that adorned his Zaku was not mistakenly given, that his rank, his duty were not tokens handed to him out of platitude and charity by his state. He would be worthy of them, he would ensure that he stood among the top of Zeon's pilots, and then one day when this war concluded he would rise even higher, he had a destiny and it was demanded that he fulfill it.

He knew from the moment he had first slipped into the ill fitting uniform that had been handed to him nearly a decade prior that he would be great, he would prove himself and not be found wanting in the eyes of anyone. Today he would prove himself worthy of a Admiral's attention, tomorrow...who knew, perhaps he would be the one wearing the gold laden stripes of admirality upon his uniform.

* * *

 **Side Five, January 15th 0079**

 **2100 Hours**

 **Inner Colony Array, Zeon lines**

 **78th Independent Mobile Suit Combat Battalion (Informally under the command of Captain Roland, Mobile Attack Group)**

 **MS-06C Zaku II**

"Damn it!" He heard Captain Roland bark out through the commline as the command ship of their sortie the Musai: _Deliverance_ erupted into a firestorm under a barrage from a slew of Salamis cruisers. He understood the frustration, with the loss of the command ship they lost their marching orders, the entire formation now was without a commander and with the situation growing worse as more and more Federal forces were streaming into the colony sector...what were they going to do? Hold their ground and hope for reinforcements or withdraw to the fleet? Would that even be possible now? Presumably the Federation's primary forces were concentrating themselves to breach the Zeon forces and break the entire line in half...was this just a feint? Or was Dozle wrong? Had they divide their forces? Was this merely a single wing of the assault? Questions raced through his mind, questions he lacked the needed information to answer, to give understanding to this situation.

Thankfully however as he wasn't the direct superior to the Captain aboard the _Deliverance_ who was now dead...it wasn't his call to make, it would fall to Roland and his judgement. As he raised his Zaku's machine gun upward and let off a short burst to break apart a formation of Saberfish trying to charge their line he awaited Roland's call. If they were going to stand and fight here against this force they would need to concentrate their fire and form a proper firing lane, hopefully some of the surviving warships could also provide additional support. They were just nine machines after all, and while they were facing obviously not the entire Federation armada here, but there was enough here to make him squirm slightly. He wasn't keen to die today, not when this day had been promised to be their ultimate victory, not when all the pieces needed to craft that victory were assembled.

"Orders Captain?" He questioned as he continued to let loose with sporadic fire to keep the Saberfish from being able to blatantly encircle them. His ammunition counter on the machine gun continued to dwindle even as he awaited the other man's command, if they were to stand and fight now would be the time to declare it, they could refocus their defensive efforts into a overt offense. That likely wouldn't allow the survival of their warship escorts but at the same time they might be able to break this prong of the assault, and inflict some much deserved retribution on the Federation.

However silence continued to dominate the commline leading him to sneer and let out a growl of frustration even as the already reeling escort ships continued to trade fire with half a dozen incoming Salamis, if they just waited then none of their possible recourses would open to them for much longer, they couldn't afford to let this stall them. As he banked hard to avoid a swarm of missiles loosed by a Saberfish, his machine jilting shakely to the sudden maneuvering as he fought against the intense and sudden pressure he was subjected to as explosions decimated the space he had occupied mere seconds prior, his machine gun returned barks of fire in the silence of space as he keyed his commline up to once more request orders, however that was when he heard Roland's stern and exacerbated tone break through.

"We are pulling back, form a defensive escort about the ships and hold them off, we need to regroup with the fleet." Roland's tone told him that he didn't want to do this, but he likely viewed it as a better option then staying and fighting and guaranteeing the loss of the rest of the expeditionary force. Pushing his Zaku back towards the the formation of warships while laying down covering fire was a menial feat but he supposed they needed to do it if they were going to try to have this group survive. "Drevis, Poulin, Kries, keep those ships clear and safe while me and Emre safeguard our retreat, stop anything we miss before it can rip them apart." Roland ordered.

Well at the very least now he had a proper objective, they were going to fight their way back to Zeon lines and kill anyone and anything that tried to stop them.

It was a game plan he could get behind at the very least.

* * *

 **Side Five, January 15th 0079**

 **2200 Hours**

 **Outer Colony Array, Zeon Lines**

 **78th Independent Mobile Suit Combat Battalion (Informally under the command of Captain Roland, Mobile Attack Group)**

 **MS-06C Zaku II**

"Shit!" He growled through clenched teeth as he tilted his suit to avoid a sudden barrage by a particle cannon that ate into the hardened steel plate of the colony behind him, ejecting debris and hot metal into the void of space in a plume of destruction. Their withdrawal from the inner portions of the colonies had been met with a pursuing enemy force that was intent upon the complete and utter destruction of the Zeon forces brazen and stupid enough to try and attach the nuclear pulse device...there would be no colony drop now, not with the engine destroyed and all the assigned technicians and crewmen that were to both install and guide the colony into its planned trajectory dead. Perhaps after the battle it could be attempted again but would it even be needed? From what he had witnessed, from what he had heard from the shattered and broken comm reports and logs...

The Federation had committed to this battle with all their remaining strength. Like Zeon-their fate now rested upon its outcome, it would not be another pointless skirmish or battle of attrition, it would be the decisive action that saw this conflict lean in favor of its victor. Either Zeon would emerge from this battlefield the victor or the Federation would be in the position to assault them in retaliation, The majority of their forces were concentrated here, only the admirality knew to any degree just what that concentration was of course...but never the less it was obvious from the sheer make up of their fleet and just how many mobile suits were within its force.

The pursuit continued, the warships were withdrawing back to the main Zeon forces while they continued their own retreat. He'd prefer to actually contend with the pursuing forces but Roland had denied them that, they simply didn't have the munitions to inflict serious damage upon this prong of the assault, they'd have to surrender the inner colonies to the Federation for now. Even now he had little doubt that the main forces were preparing their own offensive push, the Federation was consolidating their efforts by splitting their massive host into five separate fleets that hoped to completely pierce through the Zeon fleet and send it splintering. Just as Dozle had initially hoped for, however the sheer speed by which they were recapturing ground for Zeon left him uneasy, would the fleet have enough time to actually form battle lines to engage the Federation or would be the speed of this assault prove disastrous?

Spinning his Zaku around to avoid another barrage that once more struck into the wide flat expanse of the exterior of the colony, boiling through its armoring as if it was sheet paper he brought himself upward to face the incoming forces. Radar and other sensors were all but useless in the tight confines of the Sides at the best of times, and now with the heavy dispersal of M particles...supposedly by both sides even, they were even more limited. "Kries on your six!" He heard Poulin exclaim as he noted the deadened scopes were registering a incoming swarm of hazy dots that he could only assume were missiles, targeted or no it wouldn't do to be buried beneath a storm of explosives.

Igniting his thrusters in a frantic effort to avoid the projectiles was a effort that seemed to slow time, as his fingers raced across the board and pulled upward on the stick, as those little blips on the screen edged closer and closer. "Fuck!" He growled as his engines finally ignited just as a stream of missiles flew past where he had been mere seconds prior, igniting in a hellfire that bathed his primary and secondary cameras in light. His eyes drifted to the direction in which the missiles had come only to lean back into his seat as he eyed the assembly of fighter craft. Four Saberfish, the Federation's primary space fighter veered into the field, as he brought up his own 120mm waiting for a trajectory lock before firing. Of course the Federation would be scrambling fighters, they were about the only thing they had that could even in theory keep up with a mobile suit, their battleships while having firepower on their side had precious little else.

"Four incoming Saberfish coming in at six!" He barked out his warning as he heard the familiar chime of a target lock before unleashing a volley of shells that were more akin to tank rounds then machine gun cartridges. Of course with this much distance between himself and the fighters he wasn't surprised when they veered out of course of his projectiles, which continued onward into space or struck into the massive cylinders of the colonies. _'Damn it, need to step up my game.'_ He thought viciously as he continued to fire onward into the unit of fighters as they unleashed another volley of missiles into the rear ranks of their retreating force. There was precious little to be done about such nimble foes unless if he could get to within a few hundred yards of their location where their superior agility and speed wouldn't be enough of an advantage to assist them in avoiding his fire.

"Concentrate firepower, take down those fighters!" Roland barked to Typhon alongside the other teams that had made it this far nine Zaku aligned their weaponry, awaited target locking and unleashed their barrage. The silence before the carnage that was to be unleashed no doubt impacted both sides of this engagement, the Federation pilots undoubtedly steeled themselves to avoid what was coming while at the other end of the equation the Zeon pilots clenched their teeth in anticipation of the battle to come. Those who made up the survivors of the expeditionary force had lost comrades merely fleeing from the primary Federation forces, were they to be intimidated by a single squad of Saberfish? They who made up the proud legions of Zeon, who fought for vengeance, freedom and pride? No doubt those Federation pilots had similar thoughts, after all their opponents were human in the strictest sense of the word even if they were nothing but Federal soldiers.

The prelude to the battle ended with onset of force, missile fire and machine gun rounds tore flew through space to strike death at the Federation while the Federation pilots avoided and tried to counter the incoming fire as best they could. During the intervening moments however Typhon had linked up, under Roland's direction they had grouped themselves together to maximize their effective firing coverage and firepower. Two 120mm machine guns, two 280mm missile launchers loaded with conventional shells, and of course Emre's pride and joy that ridiculous artillery gun of a 175mm recoilless rifle.

The firestorm of the Typhon team's combined barrage was a impressive sight to behold, five separate Zaku raining down death in the form of explosives or bullets. Tracer fire tore through the darkness of the colonies as the Saberfish sought to avoid destruction and return fire. Missiles and rockets exploded across the field as the Saberfish unleashed their payloads, forcing the team to break from their concentrated position or risk destruction even as a train of explosions erupted across the vacuum. This was getting them nowhere, they'd either have to force the Saberfish to break off or pursue them, however to engage this force for a extended period of time was unacceptable, they were supposed to fall back to the main fleet and assist in their operation to combat the main Federal forces that were now doubt making their way to the Zeon lines as they fought in this pointless skirmish.

However that was when he noticed that Drevis's Zaku had broken from the formation and was charge dead ahead towards the unit of fighter craft, his machine gun abandoned to its rear rack and in place a heat hawk was drawn upward as his thrusters fired at full force flinging the massive suit forward in a vertical arc that would place him squarely within range to attack with his melee tool...assuming his suit wasn't riddled with missiles and bullets beforehand. _'Fucking moron!'_ The thought screamed within his head as he continued to fire in the direction of the veering Saberfish hoping that he might at the very least draw one towards himself, much as he didn't care for his younger squadmate, the fool dying would make them all look bad. Then once of course Drevis's plan became clear as his right Zaku's fist raised upward just as metal and plate sheared away revealing what had been hidden within the control unit of the suit's ' _hand_ '. Constructed of sleek and angled steel a single tipped warhead dotted the indentation of where his suit's right hand had once been, just how modified was that Zaku of his before it got scrapped at Side Four? Here he was thinking that, it would be a boon to invest into in the future, yet clearly Kycilia's faction cared nothing for standard factory specification, or even unit safety just from what lay within that tubed launcher. _'A hidden Sturm Faust?!'_ Was Drevis out of his mind? Those weapons while useful for anti ship duty didn't have the speed or precision needed to hit such a small target as a fighter, not to mention that if his hand had taken any stray rounds what so ever from the other Zaku firing down on the Saberfish... _'killed by friendly fire...'_ Well indirectly anyway, his own munitions likely would have killed him.

Drevis however held his fire even as his Zaku's free arm unit heat hawk held upward in a blatant and suicidal charge, it was then that he understood the younger pilot's intent and he felt his stomach coil from a unwilling appreciation for what he planned to do. _'He's completely nuts but he has balls I guess...'_ Drevis charged onward and while three of the Saberfish broke from formation to engage other targets, the fourth wasn't quite as smart as it continued its charge onward, driven by bravado or suicidal bravery the Federation pilot unleashed its machine guns in a fury that raked across the Zaku, striking into its chassis with little effect. "Drevis might be crazy but that Feddie is just stupid." He grumbled as Drevis did what he knew he would and pulled back on his stick angling his machine to overshoot the Saberfish just as it passed by and then the trap was sprung.

Moving with more speed and precision then Dieter had ever seen done with a Zaku the younger pilot dive bombed his opposition, his thrusters roaring at maximum thrust as they ate apart dozens of meters of difference inside seconds time seemed to slow to a craw as the Zaku once a far distance away due to the upward aceleration once again veered down into the fighter-Drevis slammed the tipped warhead into the rear of the Saberfish, even from miles out he could witness the sparks and friction from where metal met metal. The fact that the Sturm Faust didn't detonate was just a testament how durable those munitions were and as the Saberfish's tail and engine cluster spat fire and smoke in equal measure, he thought for a moment that Drevis had just intended to cripple the craft...that was until he remembered just how large this man's body count supposedly was when it came to these things.

 _'He's toying with the stupid bastard.'_ Eyes widening as the warhead detonated consuming both Drevis's Zaku and the Saberfish entirely as the anti ship warhead consummated its end in a downward blast of light, the explosion blanketing the area in fire and debris. As the cloud of wreckage shifted and began to disperse he noted the familiar movement and outline of a Zaku just as Drevis had the thing thunder away in pursuit of the rest of the squadron of fighters. _'Cocky bastard.'_ He groused internally, but never the less it was obvious that whatever faults the man may have had, piloting, fighting...wasn't among them. Even so he didn't help but note with some smug satisfaction that Drevis's Zaku was coated in a fine layer of dust and ash and a concentrated almost mist like red stain seemed to clung to the chassis of the massive war machine.

None the less with the fighter presence in the area temporarily broken they had a chance to escort the surviving members of the expedition back to the primary fleet. No doubt they would be needed.

No doubt this battle had just gotten started.

"Drevis return to formation, we are pulling back!" He stated bluntly over the line as his own Zaku assumed its place back within the ranks of Typhon. His new brothers in arms were proving their merit he supposed this day, but why wouldn't they? This was going to be the grandest of Zeon's victories, he could feel it, it had to be, it needed to be.

He needed to taste victory.

* * *

 **Side Five, January 15th 0079**

 **2300 Hours**

 **Outer Colony Array, Zeon Main Forces**

 **78th Independent Mobile Suit Combat Battalion (Informally under the command of Captain Roland, Mobile Attack Group)**

 **MS-06C Zaku II**

"Damnit guess Roland wasn't joking when Intel suggested that the majority of the Federation fleet was steaming here, even from their vantage at the rear lines of the flotilla they could bare witness to the sight that awaited them. Across the void of darkness and destruction, five separate Federation fleets, each comprised of dozens of ships advanced silently within the vacuum. Zeon possessed a comparable number of ships, but their forces were concentrated, situated to ward off a singular push...not whatever this wedge formation or pincer was. The strategy was tried and tested, relatively mundane in the annals of military history truthfully but...even so as the first salvos were exchanged between the advancing Federation and the Zeon forces digging in, he knew that this was a dangerous moment. As the hulls of Musai and Chivvay cruisers erupted into firestorms consuming the crew alongside the vessel, he realized that with multiple lines of fire, multiple incoming attackers...Revil or whomever had devised this stratagem had banked on Zeon favoring the standard naval protocol of amassing a singular fleet.

The entire Zeon armada was caught in a killzone, and was being shredded. If this went on even for a short time there would be no fleet left to salvage, even now with losses and damage mounting to their force they could do nothing but watch the carnage was the Zeon line slowly crumbled into cosmic dust. They hadn't been given leave to engage, no mobile suit corp had, not to mention the possibility that Dozle still had a ace in the hole rang out within his mind. Dozle had a undeniable advantage here, while the Federation forces here were concentrated into five separate assaults, each hammering from a differing direction a good majority of their fleet sat rearward, their primary forces were no doubt awaiting the time when the Zeon line finally crumbled and they could be sent in to route them in proper detail. This mass bludgeoning assault was meant to pierce their wall of ships, nothing more.

And as much as he hated to admit it...it was succeeding.

Swarms of Saberfish battled against the new line of Zeon fighter the Gattle in fierce dogfights that veered through the exchanges between the proper warships. Machine gun tracer fire lit up the darkness illuminating the life and death struggle between the two crafts pilots as they sought to overcome each other but in this matter it seemed Zeon had the edge as more Gattle joined the fray. Frantic bursts of machine gun and missile fire tore through fighter craft as the Federal pilots sought to escape the ensuing chaos as their melee spiraled out of the control with the arrival of yet more Zeon forces. This single isolated bit of combat may have been going Zeon's way but it didn't matter truly which squadron of fighters won the day...this would be decided by whomever's fleet survived the day, not by amassed kills.

Queuing up his commline he keyed the transmit button before barking out to his superior. "Captain, we have to get in there! Our entire frontal line is being gutted!" He growled out despite the fierce military protocol instilled within him that demanded he await orders. He couldn't order a counter assault, he couldn't even deploy this single squadron, hell he couldn't even authorize Typhon to launch. But Roland could, he was still technically in command of the surviving expeditionary forces even though a good majority of it now decorated the inner portions of the colony cluster as wreckage. Even a few mobile suits pushing back against the Federation could break at the very least a single arm of this assault. Beam and cannon fire tore into the side of a Musai causing it to erupt into a cone of light that blanketed their monitors for a moment and he heard Roland's teeth clench audibly over the comm.

Their Captain hated this, he realized that, their men were out there fighting and dying to a enemy that was beneath them and yet due to protocol they had to await clearance to engage. How long could he endure to watch this? How long could he be forced to sit and witness the destruction of Zeon's hope for victory in this war? How long could Dozle and his own discipline compel him to suffer in viewing this? As the Zeon line continued to strain and fragment all he could do in this instance was watch. As ship after ship was consumed in brief flashes of light that heralded the end of dozens of lives, he could only feel his fingers tightening upon his control sticks. His heart raced within his chest, his blood seethed in his veins, this was intolerable, this was not how this day was to be.

This was to be Zeon's triumph, but nothing was going as planned, the Federation had concentrated their forces in position that directly contested Zeon's entire control of the region and forced them into a traditional naval battle that despite their seemingly almost even allotment of ships overly favored the aggressor. Most of their navy hadn't even been in position to directly even challenge the Federation when the first wave of the assault slammed into them, lines were reformed, defensive positions crafted and a line in the sand drawn but...his place in this battle had left him. He was being overshadowed not by any one individual but the sheer scope of it, by the very makeup of this struggle, his own existence meant nothing.

All of his skill, talent and ability meant nothing in the scope of this fleet battle. His life was inconsequential. Any destiny that he might have awaiting him, any proof of his resolve and valor that he might find this day was being stolen away from him. He was being made worse then a laughingstock, his enemy was doing him a disgrace worse then death, he was being ignored.

The Federation barrage continued and another two Musai disappeared in salvos of beam discharges that tore through hull and plate as if it was butter, leaving scarred and torn fragments of metal glowing like glass in the afternoon sun. _'How long can our fleet last? How long will Dozle let this continue to happen?'_ He was not a praying sort but even he was tempted in that instance to beg some higher power to see that Dozle saw reason, they had a amassed force of over two thousand suits that were just awaiting clearance to engage...but within those machines were pilots like him.

Men and women who were bound by duty to obey orders, so they could nothing more then watch their fellow brothers in arms perish needlessly.

Not until the order was given.

* * *

 **Side Five, January 16th 0079**

 **2400 Hours**

 **Inner Colony Array and Federal Lines, Zeon Main Forces**

 **78th Independent Mobile Suit Combat Battalion (Informally under the command of Captain Roland, Mobile Attack Group)**

 **MS-06C Zaku II**

"All mobile suit forces, advance, support the relief of our fleet! I repeat all mobile suits advance! Crush the enemy! Kill them!" Dozle's stiff command barked over the comm line shattering the prior thoughts of their possible defeat...now that Dozle had given the go ahead it was time to unleash the full force of Zeon's wrath. There would be no second chances here, they were the ones who could salvage this mess can claim victory today. Only time would tell if it was a ultimate victory or not but in that moment he didn't particularly care...he was just sick of sitting back and watching his fellow brothers in arms dying to the massed Federation forces. Roland had barely key up his own line when his Zaku which had been stationary near the reserve forces concentrated around the flagship when the renewal of offensive came.

"Typhon, we have clearance to engage, we are being retasked into Saber formation 4, we are going to rush the center lines and give those Feddies something else to shoot at." At the announcement he felt his bones tense in appication, his blood boil within its veins at the mere prospect of the challenge, the struggle, the war to come. Checking his load out one last time, he was appreciative if only slightly that they had been recalled, it gave him if nothing else a chance to replenish munitions expended prior in the battle. His Zaku now stood as fully equipped as it could be with its standard armament, which was good given the bulk of the Federation forces seemed to be focused on a overly aggressive frontal charge.

"About time!" He stated through clenched teeth as his Zaku shot forward its engine cluster igniting in a flurry of blue and white light as it propelled itself towards the offensive. Five separate fleets, the Zeon fleet was still reeling but they had a precious moment to intervene, at the close of this day Zeon would stand victorious or defeated in this war. It was time to uncover just what history had in store for their tale in this war of liberation and freedom. At his side the rest of Typhon as they flew in a loose V formation, his own Zaku was soon overtaken by Drevis and Roland both who seemed to yearn for closing the distance even more then himself. Clicking his teeth in mild irritation he narrowed his gaze on a singular Magellan that sat within the encroaching central fleet. Its beam cannon fire blasting away at the Zeon forces in steady streams, but it was positioned, their entire force was positioned not to repel any sudden assault but to provide constant bombardment.

Once they entered range, this entire engagement would shift on its axis. The Feddies had been cocky, this strategy was reliant on this solely being a naval battle, they had underestimated the utility of mobile suits or perhaps didn't even realize just how many of the machines would be present here at Loum this day. Typhon was accompanied by the remainder of Saber 4, a battalion roughly comprised of 42 separate mobile suits. Their goal was simple, they were going to crack that center line in half and send the fleet into withdrawal, once even a singular arm of that force splintered and broke, the offensive could be renewed, as it stood the only thing holding the Zeon forces back was the sheer concentration of fire that was ripping their navy to shreds.

With their mobility though, those warships would be hard pressed to deal with a single squad of Zaku little lone more then forty. They could do this, they would do this. They would accomplish their mission, they would salvage this would be disaster into the grand victory for Zeon that it was meant to be. Even as they broke through their own lines, beneath them proud warships being blown to shreds by concentrated shell vollies or beam barrages all he focused on was the sight of their target. Twenty four Salamis cruisers, upwards of eighteen missile boats and two of those damnable warships the Magellan battleships. All were unleashing hell upon the Zeon forces, their continuous fire had ripped gaping wounds in their formation that would need to be stitched closed before any renewal could begin, he could only hope that enough of their navy would be left in the aftermath of this offensive to rally in enough numbers to crush the Federation fleet once and for all.

His targeting cursor hovered absently upon the main control screen as he eyed the distance meter between him and his would be target, one of the lead missile frigates that was continuing to just upload as much of its payload as quickly as possible as if the crew knew of their imminent deaths. _'frigging smart asses...'_ he groused internally as his finger hovered over the firing stud as the count of the kilometers separating them continued to drop.

* * *

 **Side Five, January 16th 0079**

 **0100 Hours**

 **Inner Colony Array and Federal Line, Zeon Main Forces**

 **78th Independent Mobile Suit Combat Battalion, Reconstituted under the order of Admiral Dozle Zabi (Informally under the command of Captain Roland, Mobile Attack Group)**

 **MS-06C Zaku II**

"Keep pushing!" Roland's voice echoed through the commline as he pushed his Zaku off the crumpled bow of the Salamis before igniting his engine cluster. The warship continued drifting under him even as he brought to bear his 280mm rocket launcher and unleashed a volley of three shells that sunk into the dented and warped hull of the vessel. Already with its bridge mast completely cleaved in twain courtesy of his heat hawk he decided he would mercy kill the crippled vessel rather then leaving it for scavengers. The doomed warship put up no resistance as the rockets sailed into the bowels of the ship, ripping through thin armoring and hull plate before detonating inward and causing the ship to simply vanish in a explosive orb of light that heralded the end of it and its crew.

 _'Another Salamis down, their fleets are beginning to fragment...'_ The Federation offensive had completely been stopped and now they were fighting a desperate defensive battle as they had to contend with a literal horde of mobile suits that were devastating all five of their positions in what had once been a organized attack wedge formation. A score of explosions ripped across the Federation fleet and Dieter could only stop and gawk the sight as two separate battleships were all but obliterated in the space of a few seconds, it occurred so quickly his main camera could barely keep up with the fast pace of the destruction but he saw enough from the display.

A single suit had punched through the Federal lines armed with something akin to the recoilless rifle Emre employed and loosed a sudden and decisive volley that ended both ships nearly immediately. Well downing two battleships back to back was nothing to thumb ones nose at, indeed whomever was flying that thing likely had a good deal of skill. Or a hell of a lot luck on their side, but that was when he had his camera freeze on a stilled image that it had caught during the display and it left him with far more questions then it answered.

With the still was a single Zaku II but what made it stand out to his eye was the coloring of the suit-it wasn't factory stock green...

"A red mobile suit?" He questioned aloud as he pushed his Zaku towards one of the fleeing Columbus carriers that was trying to break away from the front as quickly as its bulky frame allowed. Bazooka already shouldered upon his Zaku he merely waited a half second, not even bothering for a lock due to just how quickly he was overtaking the cumbersome ship he loosed another four rockets that struck into its thin and ill armored hull. Explosives decimated the entire left hand corner of the vessel as it simply ceased to exist, casting all that was within the large vessel into the vacuum, unmanned fighter craft spilled out from the void. With the ship disabled there was no real need to finish it off but he was nothing if not through.

Another flash caught in his rear camera depicting the end of yet another Magellan. _'Is that the same guy?'_ He questioned himself internally, if it was then that pilot was absolutely insane as the speed at which his suit was performing was far beyond anything that was recommended by regulations regarding mobile suit usage. _'Must have a unlocked reactor.'_ He could draw power to his suit until it literally overheated the core and melted down with the pilot and suit coming along for the ride to hell.

As he flew across the warp and torn hull scape of the vessel he eyed dozens of bodies, some plain clothed and other wearing what had been normal suits cast through the wreckage as he came upon the small bridge box, within were a half dozen stunned officers and service person who just stared upon his machine in abject horror. Placing his rocket launcher's barrel directly against the thin material of the viewport, he stared at each and everyone of those people, they had chosen this life, had become soldiers and knew that death was a possibility, he would feel no remorse nor unease from ending a few more lives. Finger hovering upon the triggering stud, it snapped downward unleashing the hard projectile smashed through the thin protection provided by the crystalline glass exposing the bridge to the vacuum even as his Zaku began to withdraw as the warhead smashed into the rear of the bridge before detonating a handful of seconds later and rending the structure from the top of the ship in a series of explosions that lit up the darkness of space.

Another ship downed, he had sunk two in the time that it had taken that one pilot to finish off five Magellans...

Whomever that pilot was, they were certainly good, probably better then he was on his best day but he was also a fucking showboat...but he had taken some of the heat off their fleet, and with the third Federation fleet collapsing to his left and first to right, this was turning into the battle he knew it could be. "Hey Captain, you see that red Zaku just now?" He questioned as he eyed the remaining fleet Typhon along with the rest of Saber 4 had engaged. With the loss of five separate battleships, that fleet would be easy pickings for the remaining Zeon forces assigned to assault it, it had lost the majority of its firepower with those ships, and Salamis and missile ships couldn't even come close to filling that gap.

"Yeah, that's one of the junior officers...apparently he impressed some people back in the homeland and from what I just saw...I can understand why." Roland told him that this pilot, someone he had assumed was a veteran was flying what could very well be his first combat sortie today? And had managed to not only survive but also sink five battleships in the space of a few minutes? He wondered then if Roland had deliberately left out his name or merely knew of the fellow by his less then standard color scheme on his mobile suit-although on that front he really couldn't talk but at the very least his choice could have tactical purpose as well as intimidative ones.

"Aznable was always good for that." Drevis chimed in softly as his own Zaku kicked off the wreckage of a disabled missile boat, the torn and tattered remnants of its hull no longer holding any sort of compression due to repeat impacts from what appeared to be a heat hawk due to the glowing streams of heated metal that was visible even in the cold vacuum of space. "Making himself look as good as he can when it matters." Drevis spoke what would could be anything from grudging respect to genuine admiration, it was impossible to tell with that man. "The pilot of that suit is Lieutenant Char Aznable, you wouldn't think it but that guy just graduated from the Academy two years ago." Drevis softly laughed as his heat hawk was placed back on his suit's charging rack.

Two years ago? He was being upstaged by a mere pilot of two years? Drevis was one thing but now another one? Bastard was probably just a kid when the Homeland became the Principality. It took him years to crawl his way into the Mobile Suit Program, become a qualified pilot, and fly his first official sortie. Sneering he flicked the thin stub of the commline key and silenced it.

He would hear no more about this, he would not be overshadowed today by a mere child, not when this was supposed to be a day for all of Zeon, it would not be taken from him by the hands of a kid.

* * *

 **Side Five, January 16th 0079**

 **0300 Hours**

 **Inner Colony Array, Zeon Combined Offensive Force**

 **78th Independent Mobile Suit Combat Battalion, Reconstituted under the order of Admiral Dozle Zabi (Informally under the command of Captain Roland, Mobile Attack Group)**

 **MS-06C Zaku II**

Roland's axe struck deep into the bow of one of the Federation's missile frigate, cleaving through armored hull and battle plate and shearing it away under the impact of his strike. With one final decisive swing the ship was split and near immediately erupted in a seeming orb of fire and wrath as the vessel was consumed, but they didn't have time to gawk. They had to keep up the offensive, the Federation was reeling now with their primary lines now devastated and much of their former strength now shattered they had a opportunity to finally land the decisive blow that this battle would be remembered for.

Yet the Federation had not stopped fighting, they were a contemptible foe but their resolve was admirable he supposed.

"Kries incoming on your six!" Roland's warning came too late however.

Fire raked across his Zaku from a squadron of Saberfish as he spun about to engage them turning from the wreckage of the Salamis he had just destroyed, rounds punched into the thick armor plating but didn't penetrate as his machine gun barked fire in reply. Yet even as he traded fire with the incoming fighter craft he noted that structural damage had been taken to his suit's primary booster system, scowling as the diagnostic informed him that a round had apparently punched into one of the primary heat exhaust intakes and ruptured it. It wouldn't prevent him from maintaining optimal speed it would just require he pay more attention to the status of the engine cluster and ensure it did not overheat. As the Saberfish twisted to avoid his return fire his Zaku accelerated, steady on the switch as he twisted the nimble machine to keep in line with the craft.

"Captain you join up with the rest of Saber and continue to push onward, I'll catch up when I'm done." He offered, while Roland could order him to disengage, could join the fray himself...he didn't want him to. This pilot had challenged him, not Roland, not Typhon, not Saber formation, not even the Principality of Zeon.

 _He had been challenged._

"Don't die." Roland commanded as his own Zaku broke formation around the shredded Federal battle group that had become their arena. He smirked internally at that, no he wouldn't die here. The Federal pilot had wounded his Zaku though, and for that they would pay, he had just gotten this goddamn paint job and now already it would need to be retouched if he didn't want the wear and battle damage from Side Five to forever scar it. As he Zaku veered to keep the fighter on scope he was mildly impressed at the scope of the other pilot's abilities, they were using the hulks and torn remnants of their own ships to to protect them from majority of his fire as they got back into a proper firing angle.

It was clever, not to mention it had the side benefit of forcing him to not only watch the surroundings but also his equipment, if that could even be trusted on this battlefield, radar wasn't worth shit past a few dozen kilometers due to particle density...

Even so, even with that handicap...

He wouldn't be caught off guard again, no this bastard wasn't getting another cheap shot. "Die!" He cursed through clenched teeth as he loosed another dozen rounds but none struck true, the pilot within that fighter was better then he had expected. The targeting solutions weren't going to cut it, obviously the Feddie could predict his firing lanes and doing his best to avoid them while draining his ammunition and awaiting the chance to counter attack, it was shameful...this was one Saberfish, he had shot down plenty of these but those pilots hadn't been like this... _'well except that one at Side One.'_ Was this the difference between the normal Federation soldiers and their veterans? That they could overcome the technological limitations imposed upon them and twist the outcome until they became the victor? Here he was in a state of the war machine that utterly outclassed this annoying gnat and he hadn't even scored a single decisive blow. Yet by the same measure, the Saberfish truly had only one method of damaging him, and if it prepared to launch a missile attack, that would leave it vulnerable to counter fire and that was what he was banking on.

As soon as this bastard tried to unleash his missiles, he would blow that stupid fighter apart with a few well placed rounds. But until then he would just have to keep trading fire with him, keep the Feddie on the defensive, hope he would get desperate or make mistakes. He supposed he could charge after the craft but it utterly outclassed his own in speed, if didn't time it exactly right it would leave him open to a easy counter. No this duel of pilots was about patience, the first one to move would die. As the Federation fighter's ineffective vulcans raked across the chassis of his machine he frowned, the Saberfish wasn't taking the bait, here he was leaving all the hints in the world that he could easily outmaneuver him and get off a missile and yet... _'You see through it don't you?'_ A strained smile formed upon his lips as he keyed the accelerator for his machine as it zoomed forward, the bastard wouldn't be expecting this and perhaps it didn't even have any ranged munitions left save the vulcans.

Yes this Feddie pilot was good but their timidity wouldn't bring them victory, if they had sought to destroy him then they should have engaged and if they were merely buying time then his charge should force them to disengage. If nothing else then his charge would force the fighter to shift angles to effectively return fire, and that would be his chance. His machine gun fire traced across the void as the fighter craft veered off, banking into a tight turn with such a short radius that it would have sheered the wings off of a conventional fighter craft on Earth. Yes, they were good, using the environment and the rules that came with it to their advantage, just like the Zeon did. "You know, you are a pretty good pilot despite being a scum sucking Feddie." He taunted over the open commline as his machine tilted to meet the fighter as it turned.

He had positioned himself perfectly, he knew exactly where the craft would bank into its turn and in that instance he allowed a small, but true smile to form on his lips. He was born to do this, he was good at it, he was skilled at it, perhaps he lacked some of the innate talent of other pilots, maybe he wasn't a natural pilot but it ceased mattering in this instance as the Saberfish cut back on its thrusters just as he angled his machine into its trajectory. _'I win.'_ Unless if the pilot opposing him was some sort of psychic...he was doomed.

As he cut his engines and allowed himself to drift, the fighter shot around to flank him just he had predicted.

His 120mm machine gun barrel awaiting the fighter as it shifted into its flight path and in that instance he knew he had outplayed the Federal pilot.

"Your good, but I'm better." He chided softly as his finger smashed down into the firing stud unleashing a volley of rounds that finally made contact with the craft as they smashed into the fuselage and left wing of the craft. The body shots tore through the thin armor of the fighter and emerged the other side, the wing came loose until the torrent of shells floated haplessly off into the vacuum. _'I doubt it nailed the cockpit, bastard's probably still alive...'_ Despite the damage done to the ship the pilot forced it into a downward dive and tried to correct for the sudden loss of a wing. Smoke and sparks illuminated the darkness as the fighter recovered and veered off as quickly as it could with its extensive damage.

With dispassionate eyes he watched as perhaps the first true challenge given to him personally by the Federation slinked off the battlefield in defeat. He could have pursued, could have ended that Feddie's life just like he had dozens of others, hundreds, thousands, millions if one were to count the colony...but no he had staved his hand. That pilot had proven something to him in their exchange, the fall of the Federation was imminent, if he were a match for the best of the Federation despite all his anxiety and doubts...then they were truly doomed.

* * *

 **Side Five, January 16th 0079**

 **0400 Hours**

 **Outer Colony Array, Federal Lines**

 **78th Independent Mobile Suit Combat Battalion, Reconstituted under the order of Admiral Dozle Zabi (Informally under the command of Captain Roland, Mobile Attack Group)**

 **MS-06C Zaku II**

"Keep it up!" He commanded as Typhon and the others who accompanied them into this sortie flew against the crumbling wall of warships that stood against them. Leveling his 280mm Bazooka, he waited until he heard the familiar chime before unleashing four standard shells in rapid succession. Avoiding the franatic cannon, machine gun and beam fire from the doomed assembly of warships he eyed his munitions readout before scowling and flinging the now empty projectile launcher aside. The four rockets he had loosed however struck true as they bit into armored hull and battle plate with effect, munitions and other stored hazards erupted across the doomed warship as its main magazine blew inward from the force of repeat hits by his Zaku. Despite him only having access to his 120mm machine gun now, he felt confident, now more then he had since this battle had begun hours prior.

"Don't let them box us in!" Emre cursed as he broke from the back ranks his Zaku's propulsion unit pushing him past his comrades within Typhon and other allied units, his heavy rifle gleaming in the light projected across space from the sun and battle both. Noting his advice however he did notice that they were extending dangerous far from the main Zeon forces, but they would be alright he knew. The Federation front was crumbling outright in the wake of their failed wedge formation, even now they still were desperately trying to pick up the pieces...not they would give these vermin the chance. His fellow Lieutenant's rifle barked twice as the massive rounds shot outward, while conventional ship fire and beam weaponry were impacted by the dispersion of the particles by the Federal ships-that couldn't be said for the weapon Emre carried into battle.

Standard onboard targeting employed by the Zaku suffered little to no ill effects due to the M particles, it was likely due to just the sheer number of redundant systems in place to ensure accurate firing of its weaponry. The bulky and cumbersome warships however were not as fortunate, not only did their conventional arms have to manually aimed via a person eyeballing a target as they had centuries ago but the beam weaponry which made them so formidable was reduced in effectiveness and range due to the particles as well. The fact that the Federation had aided Zeon in spreading them across the battlefield came as a late blessing, but none the less it was a blessing.

The Federation had unwittingly sealed their own fate here at Loum.

The heavy pierced sabot struck true as it hit the main command tower of one of the Salamis's bridges burning its way into the heavy armor before unleashing its anti personal payload deep within the bowels of the ship. Viewports blew out in deep blasts of force, blood and flame escaped outward in equal measure, the deadly testament to the effectiveness of the weapon and the pilot who wielded it. "On point." He heard his fellow officer murmur as he watched as the second round which had struck into the bowels of the warship also seemingly struck a vital point as its engine clusters cut out and the vessel seemed to shudder and shake within the vacuum due to several internal explosions before it listed lazily into its neighboring ship which had been taking moves to avoid collision.

"Good shot." He heard the Captain compliment their marksmen on his superb aim as he charged forward his own Zaku blaring in the darkness as its engines ignited in a fury rocketing it towards the battle lines, within its grip rested the familiar heavy strength steel ax that the commander of Typhon seemingly insisted upon using rather then a standard issue Heat Hawk. "Yeah, yeah he can shoot we are all impressed." He heard Drevis grumble out as he pushed his own machine forward breaking from their friendly forces as he too joined the fray.

Nuclear discharges caught his eye as the battle near the interior of the colony continued to rage onward as some of the Federal apparently was trying to hold position to stave off the main Zeon fleet long for the remainder of it to safely depart, to cover that retreat a volley of nuclear tipped missiles had been loosed on the forward formations of the Zeon navy. Entire battle groups were consumed instantly, but for the much more agile and nimble mobile suit squadrons, it was a far harder chore to pin them down, no even from this distance with the shoddy imagining provided by secondary cameras he could see that the Federation's usage of nuclear arms wasn't gaining them much ground.

All it was doing was placing the colonies themselves in the crossfire between the two fleets as they tore into each other in bloody fervor. Zeon nuclear munitions were loosed in retaliation as the exchanged continued, battleships, cruisers and carriers disappeared in nuclear haze along with entire colonies as dozens of munitions exploded against the vacuum, the outer colonies were likely going to be just as devastated by the end of this battle was the inner ones, the Federation may have been giving ground but their staunch defensive measures as they retreated were giving them their desired effect of allowing them to bog down the Zeon forces fighting against them.

More explosions cascaded across the vacuum, nuclear munitions rent asunder colony after colony, he could no longer keep track of the varied launches from either side. Regardless the interior of the colony was being torn apart, amidst the carnage he did however spy numerous mobile suits that continued to fire onward into the Federation, some were swallowed hole by blasts that covered kilometers of space yet for everyone that fell the Federation continued to lose ground and ships. The skirmish was going Zeon's way but the cost was proving dear to Side Five itself...

That was ill fortune, they had come to claim one of those colonies intact after all, if this place became wreckage then the initial purpose of the seizure of Side Five would fail. Yet again...if they won a large enough victory here, then there could be no contention of the victors of this war, regardless of them lacking the ability to drop yet another colony. Hell if it came down to it they could merely repurpose one of the older shells from Side Three and drop that on Earth, the only issue would be the sheer time it would take to construct a method for a empty hulk to travel through space. Yet all that aside, if they bloodied the Federation enough this day, then it wouldn't matter.

Colony or no colony, the Federation navy died here today.

* * *

 **Side Five, January 16th 0079**

 **0500 Hours**

 **Side Five Border Territory, Federation Battle Formation Withdrawing to Earth**

 **78th Independent Mobile Suit Combat Battalion, Reconstituted under the order of Admiral Dozle Zabi (Informally under the command of Captain Roland, Mobile Attack Group)**

 **MS-06C Zaku II**

Black is not a color, it is a absence of it. It absorbs and refracts whatever it comes in contact with. While his Zaku did not contain itself within the true spectrum of absolute darkness like true black, the matted paint that adorned its skin was apt enough camouflage. Within the drifting machine he eyed the collection of warships that floated in the vacuum before him, their engines burning hot as they tried to make their way free from the bloodbath that Side Five had become. Zeon had won the day, the battle had become a route and while their primary forces were still dealing with a rather troublesome battle group that refused to do the decent thing and die he had pushed ahead. Even ahead of his own squadron, he had pushed his Zaku to its breaking point, overclocking the engine to the point in which he had felt the frame of his machine vibrating with enough intensity to tear the craft apart. Yet this was the result, he now was in the perfect position to annihilate this fleeing forces well before they got beyond Zeon's range and back to the relative safety of Federation controlled space.

The mere thought of that- _Federation controlled space_ sent a small shiver of laughter down his spine, after today could there be a bigger misnomer? While the totals of their success yet to reach his ears, he knew what he saw back at Side Five, the massive horde that had come bearing upon them was shattered beyond recognition. Proud warships, once the pride of the Federation navy now decorated this mass grave as scrap metal coffins. Just like the ships below him soon would be, his loadout was less then optimal, in fact if he had thought about it before breaking away no doubt he would have sought to rearm himself far more...but fortune favors the bold as the old saying went. His targets were numerous and all were likely far more focused on escaping the Zeon armada then anything else, they would be rushed, fearful and indecisive, they sought to escape with their lives-nothing more.

He would have to deny them that however. Fourteen Salamis cruisers, alongside nearly twenty Columbus carriers and several of those smaller missile frigates that proved to be such a pain to their navy made up the escort but all of them were sporting battle damage, several even had ozone drifting from split sections of the hull. He almost felt pity for these would be survivors, no doubt they thought they had escaped the wrath of Zeon, could slink back to the _safety_ of Side One or Luna II...fools. If it had been the other way around, no doubt the Federation would be pursuing the Zeon forces down to the last man. Yet he couldn't help but feel slightly exhilarated at the prospect of facing down what could be considered a mid sized battle grouping by himself, with only a scarce amount of armament left to him. He only had a single drum left for his 120mm, less then a hundred rounds of ammunition, and the heat hawk that was stored aboard its storage rack, two weapons to pit himself against this force.

Was his overconfidence in his own abilities driving him here or was the thrill of victory still thrumming through his veins? At long last Zeon had landed its decisive blow and his doubts, and disbelief had disappeared in nuclear haze alongside Side Five. Today was a day of glory, something they would sing songs of victory about in the coming generations, the day when Zeon crushed the military might of the Federation and forced them to the bargaining table...there would be no recovery from this defeat-there couldn't be. It would take months to replenish the losses from this battle, even with the Federation's far greater manufacturing and resource capabilities, this blow they had struck today was mortal, these fools fleeing for their lives back towards Earth had simply yet to realize it.

Firing up his main camera just as he ignited the primary thrusters on his Zaku's engine he raced downward the speed at which he had used to arrive so quickly to this location now lending itself to him further as the Federation became away of his presence and their anti air and anti ship batteries began to churn out fire and death even as they still continued their crippled retreat back to their supposed safety. Veering left and right, downward and upward to avoid beam cannon fire and conventional shells was all old hat to him now, it was if he could predict what the enemy would do before they even did it, the Federation was pathetically conventional in the art of war. Amassed fire and frantic speed would only avail them so much, and against a warrior such as himself, not some wet behind the ears rookie, it was all too easy to show them just how he had earned this black paint that covered his Zaku.

"Its like a goddamn _phantom_!" One Federal soldier cursed through the commline as he avoided a beam barrage by two Salamis cruisers that had pulled away from the group proper to form a wall of steel to protect their brethren. _'Honorable...but futile.'_ He thought with a grimace as he avoided another burst of fire just to bring his own machine to a standstill as he cut the primary engines out along with the primary camera, blanketing his machine in the darkness of space. Using his verniers to maneuver himself and to avoid fire was a tiresome chore that ate precious seconds but it was worth the time once he had successfully had the Federation firing blindly into space. No doubt once their sensors were free of the effect of the M particles that had been dispersed he would be detected easily enough, but until then unless if he was exerting his reactor overly, they would have to eyeball him. Against the great infinite backdrop of space, a singular Zaku was such a tiny thing.

Through secondary camera mounts he moved into position, his surprise secured he let out a held breath and allowed a small smile to form upon his lips. _'Phantom? Maybe I am like a ghost in some regards...You can't see me, you can't hear me, and regardless of all that...I am still going to kill you all.'_ Yes he thought the moniker the Federation had incidentally given him was quite apt.

With only scarce dozens of miles between him and the lead Salamis of their defense line he pressed downward on his trigger stud unleashing a hail of rounds that tore their way up the bow of the vessel, leaving gaping wounds in the steel as fire and gas erupted from the stricken vessel. He ceased his barrage only seconds into after the last of his burst cut into the bridge itself, the crippled warship drifted off lifelessly spewing its contents of wreckage and personal to the vacuum. Of course his opening fire left him vulnerable to a counter attack by the other Salamis which did not hesitate to open fire upon his position with their conventional shells, massive projectiles loaded with enough power to level even his Zaku with a singular shot flew through the void, only by igniting his thruster array once more and doing frantic evasion was he able to stop his own death but it had been a close thing and with the lead Salamis now disabled to the point where it was likely crippled beyond any shadow of a doubt the fleeing Federal forces within their convoy only hastened the speed of their withdrawal.

He would have to pursue but only after destroying this cruiser first.

After all he wouldn't let that showboat _Aznable_ claim all the glory this day, and while these were no battleships, cruisers were warships all the same.

* * *

 **Side Five , January 16th 0079**

 **0600 Hours**

 **Side Five Border Territory, Zeon Formation Saber Four**

 **78th Independent Mobile Suit Combat Battalion, Reconstituted under the order of Admiral Dozle Zabi (Informally under the command of Captain Roland, Mobile Attack Group)**

 **MS-06C Zaku II**

They had done it.

What scarcely seemed possible at the onset of this battle, at the onset of this war...What he had hoped for, dreamed of...had at times caught glimpses of through the battlefield now stood as grim reality. The carnage that lay before them were all that was left of the retreating Federal fleet had sought to escape Side Five through this sector. Not a single one of the Salamis, Columbus or Missile Frigates that had attempted to escape from him lay operational. Indeed while he could count two more of Salamis among his own kills, the remainder had been ripped asunder once the remaining forces from not only the Typhon unit but the entire Saber formation had caught up.

The battle had lasted a hectic thirty or so minutes, avoiding cannon and anti air fire, veering around beam cannon shots as he brought his machine into melee range and ripping into the cruisers with abandon. He could never have accomplished this task however without his unit, without the brothers and sisters that stood at his back. On this day regardless of the branch of service, regardless of the uniform...they were all a single entity.

"Revil has been captured!" Came the frantic cry on the commline, it left him stilled for a moment. He had heard of the General's flagship being sunk earlier in the battle, he had assumed Revil had gone down with his ship like a good captain should and merely continued onward but his capture...the commander in chief of the Federal forces, the chief opponent to Dozle and Gihren Zabi, the head of their military.

Now firmly grasped within their hands.

Letting out a short bark of laughter at the announcement he glanced once more at the primary monitor.

Torn and scarred hulks floated lifeless in the void, there could be no recovery from this. It simply was infeasible.

No the majority of the Federation fleet had met its end today, their losses had to be staggering...Zeon's own losses by most accounts were moderate to light, though in his eye far too many of their ships had been torn apart by that Federal wedge attack until they had been given leave to engage. Yet even if they had lost a dozen more, two dozen, three...it wouldn't begin to approach the losses the Federation had taken this day. They had steamed into this sector, the largest naval force in history and left it a shattered wreck that could scarcely be called a fleet fleeing for their lives.

Letting out a held breath as he unclipped himself from the restraints that had held him in place within the cockpit he stood as he hit the release latch for the canopy, as the cockpit's sealed and pressurized hatch opened he pulled himself free from the chair. Leaning outward from his suit, hand firmly gripping the thick armored steel of the chassis he stared outward. The death knell for the Federation had finally sounded, any day now the Moon would fall and with it the final bastion of the Federation in space save Luna II. Space would for the first time in history be ruled by those who actually dwelt within it.

It was a strange sensation victory. He felt pangs of something resembling melancholy, this war would end and his time to show his value to Zeon, to his people would end. He could only hope that he had made a large enough impression to be treated as the soldier he knew he could be, the soldier he knew he was. Yet despite his ill placed misgivings it was welcome all the same.

Throughout the field he was joined by those who also exited their suit staring upon the grim final remainders of their battle here at Side Five. Zeon's first major victory, the end of the Federal navy, the end of the Federation.

Raising his right hand upward, fist clenched he let out a fierce cry of victory.

Dozens of others joined him in this proclamation of victory, a victory that shook the stars themselves and unseated the greatest military power in the history of their species.

* * *

 **Side Five, January 16th 0079**

 **0700 Hours**

 **Wreckage of Side Five, Inner Colony Array, Zeon Forward Operations Command Ship**

 **Musai: Purity**

"Mother of god..." He heard Poulin murmur once the ship entered into the debris field of what had once stood as the Side proper. Hundreds of colonies had made up Side Five, Thousands maybe...two billion lives had resided here just earlier in the day, now due to this battle all those were extinguished. It now along with Side Four had become simply a graveyard, a mass grave floating in the dark reaches of space. Through the primary bridge viewport, they could bare witness to all that had been wrought upon the collection of colonies, during the fury and chaos of the battle their had been little time and even less concern given by Typhon to just take in what had befallen the colony they waged their war around.

Now with that at its end they could all bask in the horror and bloody spectacle that was its aftermath. He wiped his hand against his mouth still reeling from the impact of his mouth guard within his helmet as it slammed into his gums and teeth. The normal suit glove came back stained crimson but he paid it no heed, the strain put upon by piloting a mobile suit wasn't a mundane thing, it forced the body to endure pressures and rigor it was not designed for and even with all the cutting edge of safety implementation when it came to ensuring pilot survivability and comfort...it still left a body feeling it when certain thresholds were pushed too far. He gazed impassively out upon the wreckage of yet another Side, this was what he had envisioned coming into this battle, what he had felt would occur. Not out of any sense of precognition or mystical ability but just by he knew _must_ happen this day.

The Federation was routed, he had amassed yet another bundle of bodies to his own count, Zeon had no opposition in space...not truly anymore. This war was decided here-at Side Five. These Federal citizens, these would be Spacenoids, his supposed brethren had paid the price for their complicity in living under Federation rule. The losses were he supposed unfortunate for the human race as a whole, this war was proving itself to be far more destructive to mankind then he had ever thought it would be. He had suspected that the body count for this struggle would be measured perhaps at most in the tens to hundreds of millions...it now stood in the multiple billions, how long could humanity continue to bloody itself without result? How close were they pushing their species to extinction? He knew that it was vain to think that the losses suffered here would truly matter, no doubt the people here were simply more wastes of space living under the Federal banner, drains on humanities collective resources.

The impure, the sullied, the defective, all those who stood under the bastion of Zeon's purity were above question. They had a standard of citizenry, all members of their civilization from lowest to highest adhered to it, from the common men who picked up the litter from the gutters to soldiers like him all the way to Supreme Commander Gihren.

Yes he shouldn't concern himself with the loss of such wretched being but at all the same he couldn't help but have flashes of people turning into gristle and gore before his very eyes. Of blood pooling under a green haze, of the millions he was responsible for killing with his very hands. Digging out a fresh packet of cigarettes he raised the tube of tobacco to his lips. Nicotine to silence his pangs of conscience would serve until he bury those memories forever beneath the pride of a outright victory.

Zeon may have won the war this day, but it would mean nothing until it was acknowledged by the Federation, the fools in charge of their parliament would have to sue for peace though following this victory.

There simply wasn't another avenue for them to pursue.

Their forces had been decimated, their commander in chief captured, no the Federation would submit to Zeon.

It was only right for the inferior to submit to the rightful rulers of Humanity.

* * *

 **AN: Well, there is chapter ten has come and went and I do hope you all enjoyed it.**

 **No lengthy author's note this time, just a simple thank you for supporting and following this story. I am very glad that I was able to give you something to enjoy, something to look forward to in this small community of ours. This is basically the climax of the story and I hope it lived up to whatever expectations you all set for it if not exceeding them. From here on we have four chapters to go in the primary story and a planned epilogue for it, these chapters will pave the way to the conclusion set at the end of January and lead into other narratives set in this story series. As it sits right now I have two separate one shots planned and hope to be able to work on them fairly shortly.**

 **After all once: The Soldier of Zeon is concluded that does not mean that my trip through UC Gundam has to be. Expect more content, more stories and more devotion from me the author to all those who will read and comment on my work. Honestly I sort of wish I could do this for a living truth be told, I have a lot of fun writing this stuff, a lot more then I ever had writing for other franchises, even back in the heyday of this account.**

 **Anyway I will cut this off now as I said at the beginning this wouldn't be overly long.**

 **Please remember to follow, favorite and review.**

 **Till next time in Soldier of Zeon**

 **-Reborn Akatsuki**


	11. Granada

**AN: Well here we are for Chapter Eleven, I hope you all enjoyed chapter Ten and I hope you continue to enjoy this story. What did you all think of the Meryl outlook from the prior chapter? The reason I introduced that character will become apparent in pretty short order, don't worry. Not to mention wasn't it refreshing to get a new perspective? A non Zeon perspective? I thought it would be but anyway let's wrap up this AN and get to the fic.**

 **Surprised? Well I have nothing new really to discuss for this author's note so its pretty damn short hah.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam, that's all on Sunrise, and therefore Bandai, blah blah, its a creation of Tomino's, guys a fucking genius...Kinda**

* * *

 **January 16th, 0079 UC**

 **Federal controlled space, Federation withdraw from Side Five**

 **Columbus Carrier: Bermuda**

 **1000 Hours**

Meryl O'Sullivan stared grimly at the wreckage of her Saberfish decorating the vacant hangar's floor, of the vessel's compliment of six fighter craft only her's had returned from its sortie. But even then it had barely returned at all...having portions of its left wing blown off not to mention having entire meter long strips just punched through it from enemy fire had killed the bird. Her first combat sortie in this war had damn near been her last and while she knew she had done all she could...it seemed nothing could stop the Zeon. Machine gun fire had torn apart the fuselage, some rounds coming within feet of striking her, she knew she was lucky to be alive but she did have something minor to show for her own survival.

She had shot down one of those damnable humanoid weapons, a mobile suit. It had taken every single one of her missiles to bury that damned thing in fire but in the end she witnessed its fusion reactor go off and just consume hundreds of meters outward in a flash of light so bright that it threatened to blind her even through the glare resistant materials of her helmet. Those things were hard to kill though, machine gun fire couldn't do much more then scratch their paint job and given their impressively deceptive speed they could avoid most other strikes unless if you caught them unaware like she had that ' _Zaku_ '. She was told later it was only one of the antiquated generation one variants, a notion that horrified her.

She had been fighting a fucking antique? It taken all of that damage and firepower to destroy a model that was now not even being produced? Yet even so it showed those weapons were not invincible regardless of whatever propaganda came out of Side Three but at the same time...their effectiveness in battle was now unquestionable. The entire first Federal Fleet, the largest assembly of warships called together in decades, the massive and overpowering strength of the Federation had been shattered...

Of the hundreds of vessels that had traveled to Side Five only a small fraction of that escaped the battlefield alive, and even then that had come at the cost of entire portions of their surviving fleet giving up their very lives to slow down the advancing Zeon forces. The sacrifice was heart rending, tens of thousands of brave men and women of the Federation had died there due to the pointless cruelty and greed of the Zeon. Then there was the colony cluster itself...She didn't know who had launched the first nuclear strike but the result had been horrific. The Federation had loosed its entire nuclear payload and Zeon did the same, perhaps as many ships that had been lost to those damnable mobile suits were simply evaporated in nuclear reaction.

But the damage had stemmed far further then the Federation or Zeon fleet, caught helplessly in the crossfire between the Principality and Federation it had simply ceased to exist all together. Another two billion lives lost because of this war, because of the Zeon...

 _'Damn that black suit...'_ She had scarcely fought at all in that engagement her Saberfish hadn't been supplied with sufficient fuel to begin with nor armament but she was still confident she could do something, anything to stop the Zeon advance. She had scarcely shot down her first Zaku when she had spotted that suit and noted its rather unique coloring, assuming it to be some sort of command unit or veteran pilot she had engaged it. At first as her tracer fire raked up the machine she was convinced she could score a debilitating hit before it could even react but despite her volley it had turned and apparently not feeling any of the damage that her fire should have inflicted merely returned fire.

Never in her life had been in a dogfight quite like that, where any damage she could inflict the enemy could return tenfold, where any strikes that might have shot down a Gobble or Gattle would merely fail to penetrate the rather impressive armoring on the suit. Yet even so she had flown her best, tried to outflank or use her superior speed to force the mobile suit to overextend and leave its hopefully more vulnerable backside visible to her but it had never occurred and then it had charged at her senselessly and full of the reckless abandon that would get you killed flying conventional craft.

Yet all the same she had hoped to exploit that stupidity and when she moved to overtake the suit...she felt a involuntary shiver run down her frame.

The memory of the barrel of that rifle just staring her dead ahead, round awaiting within its magazine to send her straight to hell...

The Zeon pilot outplayed her handily and in the burst of fire that had torn her craft apart she had for the first time truly felt fear creep into her body, the fear of death, of dying in the cold blackness of space. The fear of powerlessness. The burning crimson eye of the unit's camera just staring into her as if the pilot viewing her could strip her down to her very soul, as if they could dictate whether she would live or die.

Her fists clenched until the skin bleached itself white.

She never wanted to feel that way again.

She never wanted to feel helpless again.

* * *

 **January 18th, 0079 UC**

 **Lunar City of Granada, Zeon Occupational Headquarters**

 **Earth Sphere Territory: Luna**

 **1400 Hours**

Granada had fallen mere hours after the battle at Side Five had concluded he had been told upon his arrival. Yes and now with the second of hopefully many victories to come to them, he had come to the distant and rocky moonscape. The city's habitat had been mostly spared the full wrath of Zeon but even days after its fall, he could still see the occasional signs of battle that had raged within its streets and far above it in the black void of space. Kycilia had claimed the city as her own command base for the continued conquering of the Moon and perhaps beyond it, it made sense in a purely tactical viewpoint but he couldn't help but ponder at the masked woman's true intent.

Nothing with Kycilia was ever as it seemed, that had become evident within their first meeting, and the rumors that surrounded her...

Perhaps she sought a garrison command far from the prying eyes of Side Three and thus her older brother. If Kycilia was ever to truly challenge Gihren then she would need supporters, and a army all her own, and perhaps here she could gather both. The command post she had chosen within the city had been the former chief director of the city's operation's own residence, he supposed that was the Federation's equivalent to one of Zeon's governors. The structure he supposed was fanciful and spacious enough to suit one of Degwin's children but even so he found the entire thing an affront to his senses.

It was filled with treatises and documents, tomes and electronic devices filled to the brim with everything stemming from Federal regulation regarding the governing of a territory to a copy of that accursed Charter that the Federation loved to lord over the colonies. Perhaps had it been filled with documents relating to military secrets, things that could give them advantage while the fools in Side One and down upon that pebble hovering in the cosmos Earth debated upon their impending defeat it would have softened his view. But as far as he knew it, there was nothing to be gleaned here. Nothing of value stored away, not to mention that building's former occupant had been a keen collector of seemingly useless and trivial trinkets.

Honestly in this day and age kept a fucking mineral collection? Their goddamn rocks.

Yet that was where he found himself-staring at fucking rocks. Awaiting a summons to meet with the Admiral herself, to be debriefed upon the events of Loum as far as he knew and be given their next assignment. Roland had been surprisingly tight lipped upon their coming to Granada only speaking of how he had been ordered to recall Typhon to the Argus and have the ship leave the debris field of Side Five only a little over six hours after the battle had ended. Over the course of the next day and a half found him along with the rest of Typhon coming to the first of the Lunar cities to fall to Zeon.

Surrounding the entire city was a sizable portion of the Admiral's own forces including her flagship a dominating Gwazine that just dictated the surround space that was filled with its lesser brethren. Even the Argus a mighty vessel in her own right had seemed outright tiny compared to the massive battleship. As the ship touched down within the interior of the city it was the first time his boots had ever struck ground that was not a artificial construct. Was this supposed to be some poignant moment for him? Some grand realization to come to him? Nothing came nothing but the grim fact that this city was to be the first of the new territories of the Principality once the war concluded.

As his eyes scanned upward staring outward at the thick metal of bulkheads and interior he couldn't help but find the entire settlement inferior to the Sides themselves. With the Sides at the very least the illusion of nature was given but within this crowded and overfilled slum no trace of natural beauty, not even a hint of it was present. No this construct was inferior to a colony, it was merely a province of the Federation cast in the shadow of Earth, yet even still as observed the conquering of the city he couldn't help but a soft stirring of pride within his breast.

As the Zeon flag was raised up above and the Federation flag cast down, as Zaku marched in its streets, as Zeonic soldiers paraded throughout the city. They were for first time unquestionably winning this war. Yet even so as their unit was transferred to the administrator's residence and told to await their meeting he couldn't help but feel pangs of regret. He could still be fighting, pursuing the fleeing Federal forces as they sought refugee, killing the last remnants of their navy, yet instead here he was...in some manor house, awaiting summons by a Zabi.

He held nothing but the deepest respects for the family of course, they were the rulers of their nation, of their people...but he was a soldier, not a politician.

Not to mention it had been nearly two months since he had last had to dress himself in parade standard, not to say he didn't care for his dress uniform it was just...too pretentious for his tastes. Yet even so dressed in parade standard he was, gone was his plain normal suit or in its place a standard issue BDU. No he was dressed to officer standard, his rank insignia decorating the hem of his collar, his service ribbons pointedly on display.

Resisting the urge to scratch at the back of his neck he merely stilled his hands and had them continue to rest at his side, Kycilia couldn't keep them waiting forever-eventually they would get to the point of their coming to Granada.

* * *

 **January 18th, 0079**

 **Lunar City of Granada, Zeon Occupational Headquarters**

 **Earth Sphere Territory: Luna**

 **1600 Hours**

It scarcely seemed like a moment after he sat down upon a uncomfortable and likely overly expensive couch that world exploded into action, detonations rocked the structure about them, the sounds and cracks of constant and automatic gunfire raged within the interior halls.

Battle had come to this place.

"What the fuck..." Roland murmured as he dug into his waist holster retrieving a glinting and freshly polished handgun of Zeon manufacture.

Likewise both Drevis and Poulin had drawn their own sidearms, only it appeared he himself and Emre had yet to do so at which both caught a rather odd look from the Captain that seemed to exclaim: _'What are you stupid? Draw your damn gun fool!'_ Internally scowling at himself he moved into position along with the rest of his teammates, it was if they were repeating the Battle of Loum save it was here in the flesh rather within the protective multi toned layered armor of a mobile suit.

No sooner then he had drawn the 8mm Z08 that hung at his side was the door promptly kicked in, raising his handgun upward in practiced motion he looked on as the vacant doorway was filled not by the expected appearance of opposition but a normal clothed Zeonic soldier wearing little more then his BDU and sporting the obvious indicators of battle-blood stained his impressively muscled frame albeit Dieter off of just a glance couldn't tell if it was his own or not. The newly appeared soldier approached Typhon in their various battle stances, each and all had a gun leveled at the man but Dieter internally frowned at the gesture.

"Lady Kycilia isn't here? I thought she was meant to be meeting with yo..." The man was silenced when he realized all of the firearms possessed by Typhon were leveled in his general direction.

' _Its not as if Kycilia would be betrayed by her own vetted security_.' The soldier seemed to grasp that he was under suspicion given his entry and he began to speak as he continued his approach. "Is Lady Kycilia alright? We have the front entrance locked down but I heard gunfire coming from the interior." He continued his approach and from this distance Dieter could make out the markings that indicated this man was part of the Zeonic ' _ground forces_ ' as such things went, infantry. Which given his choice in weapon, a heavy and sinister looking automatic rifle of Zeon origin made perfect sense.

"I'm Private Weiss, a member of Kycilia's occupational forces..." He broke off however as despite he himself along with Emre lowering their guns Roland and Drevis both continued to have it leveled at the man squarely in the chest, he couldn't see if Poulin had continued to hold him up or not but it didn't make much difference, two guns was apparently enough.

"Toss the rifle onto the floor and approach...slowly." Roland commanded as he flicked the safety off of his own firearm.

"Listen, I don't know what you think is going on but we don't have time for this..." He was silenced as Roland merely gave the man a hardened stare and his finger inched a hair closer to the trigger. Despite the apparent lack of time in their situation the soldier complied and lazily lowered his rifle to the floor and as ordered slowly came forehead until he was just a hair's breadth away from the position that Typhon had taken up around the office.

"Dieter secure him, Drevis try to get through to Kycilia's office and see if she is secure...we may need to move to intercept any potential hostiles." He shot a brief look of annoyance to his commander before giving a resolute nod and taking two steps forward when the soldier's head exploded outward, the crack of a rifle shot rang out as his own face and chest were coated in liquid crimson. Half blinded he took a step back wiping away his eyes with sleeve just as he was shoved down as the heavy oaken desk was titled over, paper and books flew upward in frenzy.

Within the door way was another male, this one dressed in plain and ill fitting civilian garb, but within his hand was some variant of a M series rifle. _'Feddie!'_ His mind seemed to scream, they had wasted time by pointlessly interrogating and harassing one of their own solders, and now that poor bastard was goddamn refuse on the floor. "Hostile!" Roland barked as he raised himself above their makeshift cover and let loose with a quick salvo of cartridges that bit into the false wood of the door paneling.

"Sir Kycilia is locked down further into the interior offices, the Royal Guard have secured her and are awaiting reinforcements, we just need to wait until they get here." Drevis reported off from the hand held radio rig he was operating. His normal cocky and arrogant demeanor had been replaced with a almost uncharacteristic seriousness, perhaps he was simply afraid to face battle outside of his mobile suit, perhaps he realized that this situation wasn't a joking matter.

Perhaps it stemmed from Lady Kycilia herself being at risk in this scenario.

"Shit!" He heard Emre mutter as the thick and heavy wood of the desk's layering blew out from return rifle fire as he let out down his own barrage of small arms fire.

The enemy rifleman continued to fire in short and controlled semi automatic bursts, and that was all he needed to do he realized...they were pinned, outgunned and that was with only one enemy, if another combatant showed up they would be completely fucked. Roland turned to him just as he was squaring his back against the desk and preparing to fire in his own attempt to nail the bastard before one of his damned friends showed up. No way in hell a single infiltrator had managed to immobilize and assault the residence of Admiral Kycilia, no he had to have backup coming.

But by the same measure they would have reinforcements coming as well, this was a waiting game to see whose backup arrived first, who would live and who would die depended upon the response time of either party.

He pulled himself into a kneeling position and let loose with a handful of shots just as Roland gripped his shoulder and pulled him towards him, their eyes locked. "Kries, we need to holdout until-" Whatever words his Captain was going to offer beyond those six he would never know. He was caught when a round punched through the table and slid across the flesh of his skull sending the man tumbling to the ground, his hair and face caked in gore that seemed to materialize within nanoseconds as skin was ruptured, blood vessels burst and his superior crumpled.

All he could see in that instance was his superior splayed out across the ground, blood pooling from wounds, his life ebbing away. Letting out a short breath he felt his fingers tighten around the metallic butt of his pistol. Pulling himself upward and placing himself against cover again, the muzzle of his pistol angled outward towards the entryway into the room. Just as the Federation soldier within the doorway turned to fire into the room once more he let loose with the round, his finger jamming downward on the trigger far harder then what was required to pull it.

* * *

 **January 18th, 0079**

 **Lunar City of Granada, Zeon Occupational Headquarters**

 **Earth Sphere Territory: Luna**

 **1700 Hours**

The ruins of the interior office were silent for a moment, in the lull of the gunfire he rose noting that apart from the remainder of Typhon the majority of the garrison that had rushed into quell the insurgents...were dead or dying. Ears still ringing from the loud and ever present gunfire, movement still sluggish from being shoved to the floor eyed the scene with dispassion borne of professionalism. Or what he could bring to the surface that resembled it anyway, his fingers trailed across his neck and lower face from where he had felt, tasted, and smelt hot liquid blood splash against him, brain matter spraying against his dress uniform.

The soldiers that crowded the floor in torn heaps, in bloodied piles, be they Federation or Zeon were a reminder to him. The sloppiness, that indecisive, that hesitancy would get you killed. He had frozen when his pistol had come into his grip, when he faced the prospect of killing not through distance within his mobile suit but, face to face, as if he was some infantrymen...Of course that hesitancy came from the fact that the man who had been his crosshairs had been wearing a uniform similar to his own. Yet even so he had hesitated.

The man died regardless of course, whether he had pulled the trigger or not that comrade was fated it seemed to die, just as the other corpses that lined the floor, just as his commander...grinding his teeth in outright frustration he let out a hiss of fury. He was sick of this indecision, of this hesitation, of his own failures continually being shoved back in his face. Had he just shot the soldier upon his entry, they would have been in a better position to return fire on the incoming attacker, had he just shot...perhaps Roland wouldn't have taken a round to the face.

He felt as if this was all a result of his actions, yet in some way, he believe that this was the way it was meant to be. A bloody pool of destruction was always destined to follow in his wake. Yes, he was a being borne for the appropriate era...nearing half of Humanity was dead if one followed the census already, why wouldn't that number continue to grow? He was a killer, through his own actions or his sheer apathy, people would die around him. Eventually it would culminate in his own destruction.

...That was fitting he supposed.

"Poulin, Emre, Drevis...you guys still breathing?" He murmured as he ejected the spent magazine from his Z08 before digging around the interior of his holster and retrieving the spare he kept within it. You never knew when you might need another collection of 8mm cartridges.

One by one the members of his team sounded off, affirming their wellness, yet even so...

Scowling he eyed the initial shooter, the rifleman who had killed not only the soldier who had come to secure Kycilia but also his Captain...his Superior, his Leader. The man's face was ripped away from the impact of one of his shot's that had nailed him squarely on the bridge of his nose resulting in the bones of his face just compressing and shattering inward from the trauma. This corpse was responsible for the death that soaked this room, he was the first life he had taken outside of a Mobile Suit, some random, nameless Feddie.

Some portion of him wanted to actually thank the man, because of what he had done...he'd finally realized it.

Just what Burns had been speaking of years prior. _"Do not think, do not feel, do not hesitate. The enemy will not, and if you do hesitate, if you do freeze...you will die."_ The first and perhaps greatest lesson the arms instructor had ever given him, the first time he had held the same model of handgun that now was clenched between his fingers...

His pistol felt so light within his hand as he turned it towards the other assorted bodies that decorated the plush carpeting, staining it with their blood and viscera. The seconds of gunfire echoed in the chamber was he fired into the bodies, some of them could still be clinging to life and that just wouldn't do. After all if they were going to kill the soldiers of Zeon then, they would in turn have to be content being killed by Zeon.

Yet at the same time the discipline instilled within him demanded there be some measure of control applied to the situation, there needed to be something done. Anything to ensure that they were not simply sitting on their hands while a possible attempt assassination of one of the children of their Sovereign was ongoing. Eyeing his comrades he saw that none of them were stepping forward to seize the mantle of leadership from the Captain, they were merely following the same directives he had issued before his death.

Would it have to be him?

Of course it would be him, he was the natural choice.

Even among the superior race of Zeon there had to be Leaders and those that followed.

He would be one, he was destined to be one.

"Drevis...try to get the Royal Guard on the line again, we need to know if we still have active shooters in the building." He eyed the collection of corpses again, four Federation soldiers dressed in plain garb, it was the makeup of a assault team, but it was still too small to effectively have a chance of assassinating Admiral Kycilia if that had been their aim to begin with. If there were more enemy combatants within the manor then they needed to move to engage them, they couldn't risk the loss of Lady Kycilia even though such a outcome was implausible.

"Right." Drevis commented as he once more began to fiddle with a small transceiver and radio that adored his hip. Had Drevis been the only one to think that bringing in a radio was a wise decision? He hadn't even thought to ask to requisition one, he was a pilot after all, he was meant to fight within his suit. Yet he couldn't fault Drevis's forethought, not in this scenario the cocky bastard had thought to bring in something that none of them had it was their only link to the other forces within the building, and thus a clearer picture to what was ongoing.

"Poulin, check the wounded see if any of these poor bastards are still breathing." He offered the mechanic absently, he didn't know what the man could do besides basic first aid that was taught to every cadet at the Academy, that wouldn't suffice for bullet wounds yet even so if even one of the soldiers that spilled into the room to assist them only to be met by barks of gunfire from the Federal soldiers could be saved.

He wouldn't be opposed it to it.

"Emre you can stop clutching your damned wallet, the firefight is over." He groused as he eyed his fellow Lt whom had that stupid hunk of leather grasped between his fingers, his handgun firmly gripped within his free hand _.'I understand wanting to have the motivation to return alive from battle but honestly...'_ He let out a soft sigh. Maybe it would look differently to him if he had a child? A wife? A life beyond his current set of duties, obligations and dictations hoisted down upon him by the military or state.

Truth was though? Motivation was only part of what went into ensuring you came home alive again, first and foremost was skill, ability, strength...The weak perished, the strong prevailed.

That was the universal truth of their era, and it was why Zeon was destined to rule humanity.

He heard the sound of a rasping cough and a grunt of exertion just as his eyes trailed over to the cover that he had just moments before been using to avoid enemy gunfire.

Roland rose from the cover he had constructed out of the heavy wooden desk, pistol still in hand along with blood dribbling down his face in a steady stream.

"Sir..." He trailed off uncertain, he had expected Roland to be dead from taking a round to the head, and while the blood falling down the side of his head in thick globs and the burnt flesh revealed that it had been a close thing, it hadn't actually penetrated skull. Merely skidded through skin, the impact of the round however most certainly would have knocked him cold though...He hadn't even thought to check the man's pulse, he had simply fallen into the spree of death and allowed it to consume him.

Using vengeance for his fallen comrades as a justification to engage the Federation.

Roland eyed him, gazes locked in place for a moment before he gave a small and solomon nod of approval.

Apparently he had done well while during the Captain's incapacitation.

* * *

 **January 18th, 0079**

 **Lunar City of Granada, Inner City, Commerce District**

 **Earth Sphere Territory: Luna**

 **1900 Hours**

The bar they had stumbled into a hour prior was a dump, a dive, it reeked of urine, cheap alcohol, smoke and sweat. It wasn't what he normally sought in a drinking establishment but it would serve. Thankfully the cheap watered down booze at least proved cheap and given they had given their pay vouchers earlier, they weren't hurting for money. He wasn't at the very least, he had nothing to spend it on.

Save perhaps the monthly stipend he sent to his parents. Yet beyond that modest amount, all of his income seemingly just pooled together, every Mark, every month just sat in a growing account at Zum First Central...he was by no means wealthy yet at the same time if he did return from this war and decide to leave the service, he could live quite comfortably for a number of months before even needing to seek employment. So perhaps that was why he had offered to buy the first round, the moment that the first Zabi note left his wallet he felt that it was at the very least a usage of the currency.

The staff at the very least seemed encouraged by their presence, no doubt the local citizens hadn't had much cause to leave their homes during the seizure of the city. So theirs was likely the first fresh money they were getting in quite a while, so it made them courteously...for Feddies anyway.

 _'Former Feddies...'_ He internally corrected himself, they were now citizens of a territory under the banner of Zeon. Which officially made them citizens of Side Three or at least vassal citizenry. He wasn't very sure of just what the province of Granada would become in the aftermath of the war but given it was under their direction now at the very least he'd bury misgivings about the local populace until they gave him cause to think otherwise.

Then at the very least he could butcher them without hesitation.

"Still can't believe those bastards." Drevis mumbled as he nursed a stein the size of a pitcher.

"Assaulting the Admiral's own residence? Trying to assassinate her? Fools were asking to die." Emre agreed as he drained his own shot glass before signalling for another.

"Well its over, their dead, we aren't and we have to report back to Lady Kycilia tomorrow at 0800 so I expect you all to not get too sauced up" Roland grumbled as he refilled his own modest tankard with a nearby pitcher.

"Can't remember the last time I even drew my gun." Poulin stated pointedly as he merely stared downward into his own glass.

"We finally get shore leave and you lot are just going to sit there bitching about the war? Really I have to be the one to encourage you to loosen up?" He chided softly without heat. Truth be told? He was grateful for the time off, he had much on his mind and needed to process it before he would be fit again for duty. So he supposed it was a small miracle that Kycilia had postponed their debriefing to the following day, and not only that gave them leave to have some time free of the base. He hadn't had leave since this war had kicked off and he hadn't had a good drink in even longer so he was grateful.

As devoted as he was to his nation, to his state, his brothers in arms, his career...occasionally it was helpful to unwind after a time, tonight they could spend their time drinking, gambling, shooting shit and worry about the state of things in the morning. Their enemies wouldn't be going anywhere, the Federation wouldn't be going anywhere, they would resume their spree of ending the lives of Federal soldiers soon enough.

Drevis only offered a grunt in reply and continued to chug from his stein.

Emre gave a soft laugh and began telling a fairly uninterested looking Drevis about how _lovely_ his wife's cooking was...again.

Roland merely pinched the bridge of his own nose before slamming back the tankard he had been gripping, apparently even their Captain had his limits.

Did the man having nothing on his mind save his family? It was almost nauseating, how could so skilled a soldier be so bound to duty and obligations that extended past himself, their nation, their...war. Was family truly so compelling? He had been written off, all but disowned for merely accepting up the mantle of Zeon, embracing the pride of the Duchy crafted by his people in the empty void of space. The shining beacon in the darkness that drew them all closer to the collective glory that awaited them all.

"So Kries...You going to stay with the military after the war?" Poulin questioned as he finally reached out and gripped his own glass before bringing it upward to his lips.

He quickly drained the remaining bourbon within his glass before just shoving the thing forward on the bar. He wasn't near drunk enough to bother even formulating a reply to that. Of course he would, why wouldn't he? He had found his calling, his purpose, his reason to live. To fight for Zeon, to kill its enemies, to secure its place among the stars, to give its people the proper station they deserved.

To give himself the proper station **he** deserved.

Poulin merely gave him a rueful shake of the head before continuing to nurse his own cocktail.

* * *

 **January 18th, 0079**

 **Lunar City of Granada, Inner City, Commerce District**

 **Earth Sphere Territory: Luna**

 **2300 Hours**

They had left the dive finally after nearly four straight hours of nursing drinks, bad jokes, Emre gushing about his child to anyone who would even vaguely listen and Roland and Drevis slowly contemplating how to devise a proper method of assassinating the family man. He was pleasantly intoxicated, his limbs now longer felt weighted, he no longer was burdened by the onrush of thoughts of the state of the war, of the possible peace that could spring up between the Federation and Principality.

No for now he could simply enjoy himself, it had been a long time since he had cut loose and he was certainly in no rush to have this night end.

It was of course that thinking that lead him to his current predicament.

Staring at the glowing vibrant neon sign advertising the services of the establishment in front of them before turning his gaze back towards his squadmate he raised a brow in question.

"Your serious?" He questioned acidly.

Drevis merely sent him a evil grin in reply before nudging Poulin who merely gave a shrug in response. _'What seriously? You don't care?'_ How could he not care? This wasn't some light hearted nonconsequential matter...

"Kries its my treat, and after our performance at Side Five I figure our unit's formation is as good as cemented, Admiral Kycilia has nothing to complain about." Drevis offered snidely before elbowing him roughly in the chest, he glared in reply. Bastard had pointy elbows.

"Well Josefine did always find them attractive..." Emre rumbled out agreeingly.

The Captain had to put a stop to this, the man surely couldn't condone- "It will be a good unifying experience for us I suppose, something to bond us out of battle." Roland considered softly before giving a singular firm nod.

 _'...Fuck my life.'_

"Fine I'll get the fucking tattoo." He seethed as they entered the interior of the 'shop'. _'You bastards are going to pay for this, oh you will pay...'_ He had nothing against getting a tattoo, but had no real inclination to get one, not for the sake of simply having one anyway. Yet of course here he was standing in the drab interior of some rundown back alley piercing and ink parlor. _'Gonna fucking get hepatitis in this shithole.'_ He kept his body in near peak physical condition, he exercised regularly, despite his long tenure as a smoker he had kept the habit from overtly affecting his physical wellness...all undone by a single prick of a needle.

"What the hell are we even getting?" He questioned at Drevis who turned and regarded him seriously for a moment before gesturing to the insignia on his BDU. The unit patch? Well...He supposed it could be worse, it could have been something gaudy and at the very least it was something simple and hopefully easy to do...it wouldn't require any toning or coloring and if he understood this skill well enough, that was the time consuming portion of the practice.

"We are a unit." The aristocratic featured man offered softly before turning away.

 _'Goddamnit.'_ Why couldn't the man continue to make him hate him? To wish to strangle the life out of his body? Why couldn't he just be a pompous overbearing ass the entire time they were around each other?

"Well said." Roland offered Drevis before apparently agreeing with the decision on the _ink_ they were to all get here.

He let out a weary sigh before deciding it would be best to just to get it over with, he was obviously both outnumbered and outflanked in this engagement.

"I'll go first." He offered.

* * *

 **Two Hours Later...**

Rubbing at the raw skin of his wrist as he glanced down at the thin and well drawn lines that now decorated his pale and unmarred skin he couldn't help but feel...completed by the addition. Now he was adorned not only by uniform, deed and word but also his very body. It was a fulfilling sensation, now he could be reminded of his service, of his victory, of Zeon's triumph at Loum, in this war...whenever he witnessed the underside of his forearm. It would be a reminder of his greatness, Zeon's greatness, and the inevitability of their victory.

His victory.

He'd never voice that sentiment aloud though, he'd rather choke down a glass filled with razor blades.

No the others within his squadron could speculate upon his opinion of the design adorned his flesh. He certainly wouldn't commend Drevis for hoisting this unexpected...gift upon him.

He would however perhaps revise his opinion of the arrogant young pilot to be more favorable...if only just a little.

After all the bastard was already cocky enough, he wouldn't contribute to that.

* * *

 **January 21st, 0079**

 **Lunar City of Granada, Zeon Primary Launch Dock**

 **Earth Sphere Territory: Luna**

 **0700 Hours**

"Well as you can see... _sir_. I was able to fix some of the primary coolant and fluid transfer hoses that were shot up in the intake but, I couldn't rewire all of the electrical systems that shorted out back on the Argus. Just didn't have the space or equipment, maybe once Granada is shipped some proper MS upkeep gear I can rig up more then a patch but until then..." The behemoth of a mechanic seemed to shrug.

"Right, I get you Poulin is it anything I should worry about?" He questioned as he fiddled with a packet of cigarettes tugging off the tin wrapping that clung to the box of death sticks. He wasn't overly concerned with this matter truth be told, he was expecting their stay at Granada to endure until the conclusion of the war or at the very least until the meetings between officials of the Federation and Zeon who were cautiously approaching each other with tentative agreements of locations and dates for procedures to be arranged.

"Its a cooling intake Dieter, if that engine overheats it and its fuel will _explode_." The dark skinned native to Side Three stated pointedly. Well while he was no expert on mobile suit manufacture or upkeep, the engine exploding would likely be a bad thing, so he supposed he would need to pay it more mind then he had been priorly yet even so, surely they would have the time needed for a full repair job. They just as Poulin had said, needed the proper equipment and facilities.

"The engine seemed to be running just fine even after it got shot up at Side Five." He reminded the man as he pulled free a single cigarette before grunting and pulling forth a second and extending it to the team's _unofficial_ mechanic. Greg he had learned in the short time he had known the man was an expert on things mechanical relating to mobile suits, an obvious indicator why an otherwise only modestly skilled pilot would be hand selected into the special forces division under Kycilia.

The larger man just seemed to sigh as he accepted the free smoke and twisted its filter free before stuffing the tube of tobacco between his lips. "Yes Dieter and that was before you overclocked the damn engine and almost flash fried the actually good intake, if it can't filter fuel and expel exhaust waste then its worthless, you'd have to get another booster unit." Poulin grumbled as he lit his own cigarette before exhaling a harsh cloud of nicotine laced smoke.

"I doubt we could find a spare around here, this close to the front and it would take at least a week to get one this far from the Homeland, what with all the wartime traffic and...Zeonic in all likelihood would have to make a new one to begin with, it isn't like we have a shortage of Zaku." He stated rather dryly at Poulin. Yeah, if his engine cluster was slag then in all honesty he'd be out of the war until it could be replaced, that was unacceptable, but thankfully Poulin the miracle worker that he was had come with a solution albeit a temporary one.

A new engine and booster unit would be better but that would also lead to delays as the unit was installed and not to mention as he stressed before the sheer time it would take to get out here to Granada. It might have been on the side of the Lunar surface closest to Side Three but that was still a hell of a trip even by conventional warship nuclear drive. So he could only hope that this patch job could hold over until a proper repair job could be done.

"Which is why I rigged up the intake as best as I could, as long as you don't overstress the engine it should hold up fine for now." Well it was better then nothing, and it would keep his mobile suit usable for the foreseeable future, he shouldn't complain but even so he didn't like it. What if he was wrong? What if Kycilia deployed Typhon once again, he'd either have to request another unit or make do with his damaged one.

 _'Just when I was starting to think of getting custom work done on the thing too.'_ He thought sourly.

He buried the negativity and grousing though, it wouldn't do him and therefore Zeon any favors and so it was something to discard.

Work towards a solution, strive ever forward.

"Anything else you can do?" His question was simple and the reply either way would be just as simple he knew.

"I will take a poke at it tomorrow, but in all honesty? I doubt it...I may be former Zimmad but even I ain't that good." He let out a short and almost bitter sounding laugh.

He eyed his fellow servicemen curiously at the admission. _Zimmad_ , Zeonic's primary competitor and chief market rival. They were a less renowned, less funded and utilized company these days following the full introduction and mass production of the Zaku series but he could still remember the bidding and propaganda wars being waged back in the Homeland years prior between the two companies. That Poulin was a former engineer with them though...

Well it explained where he got his technical skill if nothing else.

* * *

 **January 22nd, 0079**

 **Side One, Federation Docking Berth 19**

 **Shangri-La, Federal Space Force Military Headquarters**

 **1500 Hours**

Meryl O'Sullivan wiped away the stale and dried sweat that had clung to her forehead for the prior half hour, at the very least she should be grateful to be of some use today. The last week hadn't been the most pleasant of her time with the Federation, no in the aftermath of Loum everything had gone horribly. The surviving officership of the Federation were under constant pressure by the civil and legislative bodies that made up the Parliament to dictate a proper course of action, and of course her being a officer made her apart of that quagmire.

It seemed if she wasn't busy filing away report after report, she was in constant meetings with fellow Federal officers or even worse, civilian representatives of one Side or another. It was pure unadulterated chaos, and they had Zeon to blame for it. No one, not a soul within the Federation could have predicted that Zeon might actually defeat the Federation outright in a decisive battle, yet now for better or worse all of humanity knew of its victory at Side Five. Knew of the Federation's bloody withdrawal, of the colony cluster's outright destruction.

Yet even more distressing was the news coming from the brass on Earth, were they honestly considering outright surrender? To Zeon? To the monsters that had killed billions of people? Yet even despite her disgust at the mere notion of Zeon actually triumphing from its wicked deeds, she understand why that would be a thought...Their military strength was depleted, it would be months, maybe years before they could rebuild their shattered fleets and even begin to approach the strength they had prior to the outbreak of war.

How were they going to fight against such a force that could break their greatest fleets in half? Mobile Suits, never in her life could she have dreamed that traditional naval strength and striking power would be rendered redundant by such a technology. Stepping away from the interior of the fighter, her plain coveralls coated in grime, grease and grit she frowned at the stubborn engine block. The Saberfish was far more delicate then the Tin Cod but she supposed it was a good enough plane to fly...it just couldn't match up to what it was being asked to face though, no the Zaku line had them outclassed in nearly every capacity from firepower to armoring.

It wasn't quite as fast as the Saberfish but was close enough to render that advantage a non factor, something she could attest to from personal experience.

Once again she was drawn back into the memories of battling against that black Zaku in the battle for Side Five. Her rounds just failing to penetrate its thick armoring, its return fire barely avoiding her as she backpedaled her fighter into a more advantageous angle. If she had missiles, if she had anything that could do damage to it...When she had first encountered it, she had raked its flank with fire and scarcely done anything to it. Except when she had struck at its engine mount, the thruster system for propelling the war machine.

That seemingly had some effect as the mobile suit had turned to protect itself near immediately.

 _'It likely wasn't as well armored as the frontal chasis.'_ Her mind chided her wishful thinking. Of course the engine wouldn't be as well protected as the front of the suit, but trying to get around to engage it again had proven impossible, all the machine had to do was keep it out of scope and it negated her one avenue of success assault, even then the suit's movements had been crisp and precise so clearly she hadn't done any true damage to it even by striking against it.

"Lieutenant!" She heard the sharp crack of the base commander's command and she immediately stiffened. She was off duty at the moment, surely she wasn't going to be chewed out for ignoring some minor report or updating her superiors...the entire point of coming here to work on her bird was to get away from that bullshit for a moment, there was a war raging out there and the very least she could do was attempt to get her fighter serviceable again to fight it.

"Yes sir!" She replied as she turned to face him already stiffening her body into ramrod straight parade attention.

"You are to report to the briefing room immediately, we have a visitor and they asked for you." At the order she internally raised a thin blond brow. She was requested? By someone who could order the Colonel who ran this installation around? God what the hell could this be?

* * *

 **AN: Well there we have it, the lead up to the finale, the next two chapters will basically be dictated by the final stretch of the plot. I can't say too much without spoiling all the juicy tidbits of what is going to happen out at Side One, but if you read the Yuuka one shot: Impact then you likely have some idea. So there isn't much need for me to reveal more eh?**

 **You know I received a pretty interesting message relating to this fic a few days back via Reddit, specifically the Gundam Subreddit where I have advertised this story a few times. In that message I got asked a amusing question, well I thought it was amusing but in truth it did hit on a few points I have been trying to subtly poke at as far as mental states of the characters. To sum it up the fellow asked if Dieter was a psychopath, in my reply I basically stated that he had several psychopathic tendencies but wasn't outright psychotic.**

 **Namely I pointed towards his sheer apathy towards life as a big one, overall he has little to no regards to the value of other people's lives, and this was sort of hammered home by his time in the Academy so basically while they were honing his survival and killer instinct, it was meanwhile snuffing out any sort of lingering attachment towards people as a whole. Combine that in with the Zabi doctrine and overall you have a fairly cold and uncaring person, and Dieter occasionally ponders his actions, why he feels no guilt, no real reservation with ending lives, he realizes that there must be something wrong with him but overall cannot stop to even attempt to fix himself. So he buries those lingering doubts and reservations, racks them up as personal failures, I think I expressed that best with the lead up to Loum.**

 **His doubt in himself, in his own actions was rationalized by him as lack of devotion to his cause, his duty and then** **preceded** **to be buried by the Zeonic victory there. Never once did he happen to think that there was perhaps lingering guilt or doubt based around his actions at Colony 13, although he is occasionally revisited by memories from there as the last chapter proved, but they are for the most part ignored.**

 **So basically the only people whose lives have even a modicum of value to him are those of his own countrymen, just as the only state that matters to him is itself Zeon.**

 **His persona is tied into the Principality, his beliefs, his thought process, his very existence is bound up in the notion of Side Three, his own ambitions and dreams all tie into it. Basically it is the other half of himself, he views himself as a utility to the state and as a soldier, not a person. Yet at the same time his own desires, greed and ambitions extend beyond his role. He wants to be great, not just as a soldier but as a leader, he wants to live up to the ideals of his homeland.**

 **His self importance ties into his devotion if you want to get down to the basics, he fights because of that, patriotism aside he is a fairly selfish person. Yet at the same time there is the groundwork for him to become outright unhinged, if the only balancing mechanism for his actions is removed, all he is left with is what he has done. So I suppose look at it through this lense.**

 **Without the Principality, without Zeon he likely would devolve into a full blown psychopath. A friend I had back in my college days would likely say that Dieter would have an extreme sense of narcissism and moderate psychosis. As it stands though? He lacks the trademark total lack of empathy and human awareness that would make him undeniably a psychopath. He cares, just about select people, in select amounts, all based around his own beliefs.**

 **Yuuka on the other hand I undeniably confirmed was a sociopath to some degree or another. A very unhinged one at that. I could explain that conversation in another whole AN though and this is dragging on. But before I do end this topic, I would like to point out this is the sort of question I would love to get in the comments, I mean it seems in my stories all the serious and thought provoking comments or questions I receive always come from some secondary source that isn't affiliated with my story itself.**

 **Anyway as always I would like to remind you all to review, favorite and follow. No feedback is sort of grating upon occasion truth be told, how am I supposed to know what works, what to improve on and what to fix for future works if I don't hear from the fanbase? Admittedly I do sort of cut this fiction's lack of interest some slack due to how pathetically small our little fanbase here is but...even so. Just a handful of paragraphs explaining what you would like to see, what needs to be fixed, etc, etc would be helpful upon occasion.**

 **Till next time in: The Soldier of Zeon**

 **-Reborn Akatsuki**


	12. The Black Phantom

**AN: Well this is chapter twelve and the last little bit of the lead up to the conclusion of Soldier of Zeon. Nothing really beyond that to say except thank you all for following and favoriting this story, it seems with every release I gain at least a few more readers and that is sort of invigorating truth be told. I like it when people enjoy my work, and hopefully this continues to be enjoyable for you all to read.**

 **There is however a little bit of brass tacks to be discussed but not much. As this story reaches its conclusion in the next two chapters(three if you count the epilogue) I would like to say that there will be a sequel story. It will feature much of the same cast as this narrative, although there will be other faces, and much like this story it will focus on a time period that has very little light shed upon it.**

 **Beyond that announcement there is nothing else to discuss so I will leave you all to enjoy.**

 **Disclaimer: I still don't own Gundam nor do I even have the money to attempt to buy it off of Bandai**

* * *

 **January 24th, 0079**

 **Zeon Occupational Headquarters**

 **Zeon Enlisted Canteen**

 **Lunar City of Granada**

 **Earth Sphere: Luna**

 **1100 Hours**

"Holy crap!" The Ensign exclaimed as the footage continued reveling in the destruction caused by the fearsome red Zaku as it sped across the battlefield annihilating anything that crossed its path. Likewise with dispassion he continued to watch the reel as it continued its broadcast, the recordings of the battle that had waged at Loum were something he was curious about. With all the live feed and data captured by literally thousands of suits, surely one could put together a rather accurate portrait of the battle, assuming one had access to that data of course.

Scene transition after saw Zeon dominating the field, hundreds of mobile suits were depicted, in the midst of carnage and glory. Death and war, their pilots would be immortalized after this, a new generation of icons were being birthed before his eyes. Aznable was a name on many lips within the canteen this day, and he suspected that trend would not be ending anytime soon. Other names were also murmured beneath the clamor. Ridden, Gato, Blanke, Oguz among legions of others.

Obviously in a battle so large in scope was Loum dozens if not more aces would be born of that day. His eyes caught the screen just as his own Zaku II C was seen engaging the Federal battlegroup he had sought as it tried to disengage and flee Side Five. His autocannon fire illuminating the darkness of space as it tore into Salamis and Columbus carriers and cruisers with equal abandon. A few within the room actually turned to look at the pilot of that machine, it was no secret that he had a custom colored Zaku II within Granada being worked upon in the public military hangars, the same machine that was being depicted laying waste to Federal ships.

The screen shifted offering both a name and face to go along with the mobile suit just as it had for the prior pilots leading up to him. The screen read simply: _First Lieutenant Dieter Kries of the Argus_. In trailing letters afterwords the name the doomed crew of the Federation Salamis had given him as their futile efforts to strike him with their batteries led them to their graves. _Black Phantom_. It was as he thought at the time, a fitting moniker, with his darkened suit against the backdrop of the battlefield, picking apart enemies that could only tell his location from muzzle flash and energy spikes.

Several glasses were raised in his direction.

He offered a tight smile in reply as he continued to watch the spectacle only for it to end and another video to begin in its place. He had his fifteen minutes of fame, but even so. He was pleased by it, the whole of the Principality undoubtedly knew his name and deeds this day. He'd just have to give them something more in the aftermath of such a grand battle, hopefully Kycilia would oblige on that front.

The Zeo Net in their bid for morale boosting propaganda had been displaying the results of their battle. The whole of the Sides were privy to the defeat of the Federation's grandest fleet and the triumph of Zeon. Smoke trailed from his nostrils and he stifled a cough that sought to escape from him, instead he continued watching. The reel ended and another scene played out between a trio of black and purple suits as they engaged a singular Magellan. _Ananke_ was stenciled across its massive hull in bold black lettering, the flagship futilely fired its salvos but the nimble Zaku avoided the fire and continued to tear into the great ship.

The image cut out returning to the standard fare of the news forecasting and the studio image and logo of the Zeo Net as the anchor continued onward discussing bravery and valor displayed by the fighting force of Zeon. His foot tapped along with the upbeat music of the program as the report continued along. Detailing the fall of Granada and the withdrawal of the Federal military to Luna II. His ears caught an interesting tidbit among the chatter and monotony of the report however from the anchor.

As the young, bright faced man spoke he confirmed what he had suspected was coming in the wake of their success at Loum. "In the wake of our victory at Loum the glorious Principality of Zeon has officially extended offers of surrender to the Federation, and while no reply is forthcoming we can only pray that those in power within the Earth Federation see wisdom and relinquish their claims upon space to those who actually dwell within it. This is Norton Roth of Zeo Net, signing off." The screen cut out and was once again replaced by stock television and other inconsequential local garbage.

However amid that inane and trivial ramblings luck still shone upon him as a earlier broadcast of the Zeo Net covering Supreme Commander Gihren once more began playing, amid his declarations of victory and promises of the triumph of Zeon. Bore what he had been looking forward to once this program began, near the closing of his speech and comments, he spoke a grim and bold promise of wrath to the Federation. One in which he pledged to pluck the artificial construct of Luna II and cast it upon the very Earth in place of a colony if they did not see clarity and surrender.

The Newscaster spoke wisdom of course but all the same, he wanted this war to linger on just a bit longer. He was just now showing his worth, proving his superiority. He had nearly twenty Salamis confirmed sunk to his name-just two shy of that accolade. Eight of those sunk at Loum alone and this war had just entered the conclusion of its first month. If it lasted another month or two, how many ships would fall before his might? How many Federal pilots and soldiers would die by his hand? Just how tall could he build his legacy atop the bodies of his enemies?

As he strolled out of the mess that morning on his way to meeting up with his squad to be debrief and assigned their next assignment by Admiral Kycilia all he could think was that he was born in the proper era.

* * *

 **January 24th, 0079**

 **Zeon Occupational Headquarters**

 **Lunar City of Granada**

 **Earth Sphere: Luna**

 **1300 Hours**

They had finally been called in, the meeting that would have taken place earlier had no some infiltrators and would be assassins had not stormed the manor was taking place. Assembled across a large circular table that would comfortably seat upwards of ten had six in various positions. Typhon and Lady Kycilia, the formal and ever present military regalia that she normally adorned abandoned in favor of her trade mark casual attire of blacks and purples. Of course as they were meeting with royalty were formally dressed in their military best.

Kycilia across from them looked just as she was a cross between politician and soldier. She like they had come from the Zeon military program, back in its infancy, and she like them knew what it was to be a soldier yet all the same she was first and foremost daughter to Degwin Zabi and that role superseded all before it. With her normal stern command she began the meeting with minimal flair. Producing a single and solitary folder, filled to the brim with documents and copied texts.

Tossing it upon the rounded table it spilled its contents across the bounds of the wooden surface.

Within were communication reports, technical reports, ingoing and outgoing supply shipments and manifests.

All dealing with a certain colony within the cluster of Side One, all this information pooled together revealed nothing by itself but the implication was there to be grasped. All the ingoing and outgoing science personal, the transfer of materials and rare elements, all being housed within the most heavily defended colony within the entire bunch. Yes he'd be a fool not grasp what Kycilia had in mind here even if he did not know specifics.

The Federation had a black project, some hidden agenda housed within one of their bases at Shangri-La. In this war they had the edge because they possessed superior and unrivaled technology, because they approached the matter of warfare with the inborn drive and intellect of the superior race of Zeon. Yet with this information, with these reports and scattered documents, even as he leafed through a few of them he knew that if the Federation turned their military capacity against them with equal footing...It would be as it was at the start of the war.

A senseless and bloody war of attrition that Zeon had no hope of claiming victory from...not without suffering irreparable loss and damage anyway. They had turned the scales in their favor with the destruction of Side Five and Four, and with the purging and destruction unleashed at Side Two yet even so...their military was still regrouping, still putting the pieces back together from Loum. If this project was some sort of wonder weapon, some kind of ace in the hole for the Federation, they could ill afford to let this tree bear fruit.

Kycilia spoke her command and it was simple and direct. The icy contours of her tone tear his eyes from the page to her undoubtedly stern yet hidden visage.

"I am deploying you to Side One. To find and obliterate whatever you find relating to these military projects or project. All materials, all research personal, everything." Her grim command was given not with any hesitancy or remorse. Despite the tenuous diplomatic situation existing between the Principality and Zeon she would order them to destroy whatever may offer the Federation advantage in the event the war continued onward.

It was a mindset and order he could respect. He felt his breast swell pride at the thought of Zeon being commanded by such leadership, this was why they would suceed, this was why they would win. His eyes shifted to those who would be his brothers, assembled at his side. They all bore the similar dispassion and willingness to commit these acts in the name of Zeon, even in the heart of a supposedly civilian colony.

They'd get it done, regardless of cost in materials or lives they'd rend that base into nothingness.

"This mission will be code named Black Light, you are to be given means of insertion into the colony cluster via a captured Federal ship. Once aboard the Side, find evidence of this project, find where it is located, and once you do..." Gloved hands were steepled beneath her brow as she regarded them from across the table, her sleek metallic mask glinting in the artificial light.

"Signal. Materials will be delivered to ensure you are capable of carrying out the actual task of destroying the base, and I also have the Argus on standby just outside of the Side One territorial bounds. Once the signal is sent it will immediately be ordered to cruise as close as possible to the inner colonies and deliver what aid it can to assist in extraction." Coming from her it all sounded so simple, so precise and direct. They'd be five men, five Zeon soldiers sneaking aboard one of the most heavily guarded colonies in Federal space, among tens of thousands if not more Federal soldiers. The garrison they'd have to compete against, not to mention their naval and space faring forces would be demanding opponents.

"I will of course leave the details and arrangements of such with Roland here." Kycilia indicated as she rose from her plush and velvet ridden seat. Standing there in her pointed helm and facial mask she resembled one of their mobile suits. Proud, defiant and utterly deadly. In her own way Kycilia was just as dangerous as Dozle or Gihren he reminded himself. She in that instance reminded him of one of their mobile suits. Proud, defiant and utterly deadly.

It was haunting how beautiful such imagery was, especially to one such as he not usually burdened by feelings of lust or attraction. Stifling that urge along with the train of thought that birthed he refocused himself. It was an easy enough task, after all he had a mission to look forward to now, and its aftermath of course.

This would not be an easy assignment, indeed it seemed second only to Loum in potential of death. Yet all the same the pride did not diminish within him, the feeling of superiority did not shrink. Even as Roland probed over the information that spy reports and hijacked communications, even offering several questions to Kycilia he found himself not overly interested in the more technical and mundane details of this plan. It would come together with or without his assistance, no Roland was a apt superior and fairly intelligent strategist, he could put Kycilia's will to reality.

He would content himself with the prospects of the battle to come. Once this mission was successful, and whatever the Federation's agenda there was destroyed, it could only increase the frequency of his service. Never again would he be relegated to flying a bomber in support of infantry, during a insurrection. No he would stand in a place of honor, of pride, he would stand as a equal to Aznable and all the rest.

 **Black Light** would be the next step on his journey of being not only a recognized pilot and soldier but of him becoming a leader of Zeon. He would not be one of the spineless and ineffective bureaucrats, not one of the wealthy or nobility in the senate, no...He would be a soldier, a commander, a leader of his people's warriors. For he was a warrior.

"We'll get it done Admiral." Roland grunted in acknowledgement as he along with the rest of their unit rose. Poulin, Emre, Drevis like their captain all bore looks of absolute conviction, devotion, they knew what they were going into, the chances of survival, of success at all. They were all skilled, trained, professionals but this mission was something that demanded more then that.

Saluting the Admiral as she departed, he couldn't help but given a slight grin at the prospect of this duty assigned to them.

Buried within the piles of photos, logs and documents was a singular office manifest that none within Typhon had paid any note of. Amid the scribbling requesting more office equipment, pens, pencils, data drives and such was a signature.

That signature read **Tem Ray**.

A surname known to none within Zeon at the time.

Months later it would become infamous. A name synonymous with death itself.

* * *

 **January 24th, 0079**

 **Zeon Occupational Headquarters**

 **Lunar City of Granada**

 **Earth Sphere: Luna**

 **1500 Hours**

In the aftermath of the meeting with Kycilia most of Typhon had departed, indeed only they remained within the room. The rest of their fellows having abandoned it to enjoy their final bit of free time before they were forced to depart the Lunar City. He coughed a little bit into his hand, despite his health and relative young age it was becoming increasingly clear that smoking was finally beginning to catch up with him, and despite reservations it was evident he'd need to quit soon. His lungs as if agreeing with that notion felt gritty and weighty as if buried within mucus and phlegm.

That would prove to be an annoying chore but it would beat out the alternatives, while most of the medical risks associated with cancer and other issues that stemmed from the practice were now long since past...even if it was non threatening it still posed a waste of his potential utility to the state. If he had to deal with cancer treatments or other medical curative measures to ensure his own health, then that would come from resources that would best be spent aiding the cause of Zeon.

Even if he was worth it, after all was he not one of the more decorated pilots of the Principality now? With dozens of ships sunk to his name? At Loum alone he had sunk eight Salamis cruisers. Not to mention the other assorted warships he had downed from missile frigates to carriers, yes he was obviously a resource worth maintaining and his value was being recognized. Why else would he put within Typhon to begin with? Why else would he be tasked with the mission that Kycilia had given them?

"I suppose Kycilia is just playing it safe with this operation, though I wish we were going through with Supreme Commander Gihren's pledge truthfully." In the most recent communications between the Principality and Federation Gihren Zabi had quite potently threatened to not only seize the artificial construct of Luna II but also to plunge the station into the Earth if the Federation did not see wisdom and surrender. It would send quite the message and not to mention in the wake of Loum, likely end the Federation outright.

As it stood though, all they could do was what they did. That was wait, wait and wait and wait, for Kycilia to greenlit their mission which thankfully had finally occurred and wait for the peace process to either result in the Federation's unconditional surrender or it to break down and the war resume in earnest. Either way until this very day, they had been waiting since coming to Granada.

The peace process between the two warring states was mostly being conducted by Zeon's supposed allies at Side Six which had offered to mediate the conflict for the assurance that they wouldn't be dragged into it. He didn't know what the government of the remote Side were thinking truth be told, they were only free because of Zeon, they were only protected because of Zeon, why would they protest neutrality? Why wouldn't they join them? Years ago they had fought, bled and died together to ensure that Side Six, like Side Three would be free of the tyranny of the Federation and its rule.

Was the weight of that blood debt so easily forgotten?

"Our forces need time to regroup and resupply in the aftermath of Loum, even now we are still trying to organize our forces in the wake of our offensive at Side Five." Roland grumbled out as he ran a thick finger across the sterile white of the bandages that adorned his side of his face. He supposed that was true enough, they had lost many ships at Loum, even if their own losses were far outstripped by the Federation and the fact that they had managed to keep the majority of their fleet intact, it wasn't a inconsequential amount.

"So I suppose this mission is planned to aid in gaining us that time." They would need to strike at something important, something vital, something that no Zeon had ever touched to ensure that the Federation was well aware of their strength. That there could be no doubting Zeon's resolve to fight this war to its end if it was required.

"Exactly, while those cowards in Side Six play mediator we are going to strike the Federation in its very heart, you heard Kycilia its one of their longest running research installations in the colonies. The military secrets within are secondary to just the sheer impact attacking it will have on their morale." Roland gave him a painfully tight grin as he ran a thick finger across the folder that contained the information pertaining to the mission, with that singular document they were to be prepared for a covert insertion deep behind Federal lines.

That was Kycilia's thinking anyway. It didn't matter, information or not they'd get it done. Side Five had been a battle that would go down in history, how could anything compare to the risks and dangers of that?

"I understand, but won't assaulting Side One while we are supposedly trying to conduct peace negotiations negatively effect said talks?" That was his primary thought, while he had nothing against fighting this war to its conclusion, eliminating the worthless husk of the Federation from living memory along with all those who clung to it. They were actively pursuing diplomacy at present, Gihren and Degwin Zabi both had been in supposed talks with Federal leadership, trying to ascertain the possibility of peace.

All the same though he was a soldier, not a politician, he'd fight when requested to. Kill when requested to. If needed die when requested to.

"That's why this has to succeed, if we achieve our objective and neutralize that base then the Federation will know that we can hit them whenever we want, with or without our fleet. Combine that with the outcome of Loum, the capture of Revil and this war is over." The impact would be quite telling of the striking power of Zeon, of the sheer discrepancy between the power of the Principality and Federation, that regardless of the billions the Federation commanded...Zeon would still win this war if they were unwise enough not to sue for peace when the chance was offered.

He offered Roland a tight smile of his own. He was no coward, all doubts had been purged away by the nuclear fire unleashed at Loum. Zeon had won its victory, the measure of their cause, of their eventual success was evident. Yet all the same he was no fool, and Roland knew it. It was why his commander continued onward, his tone taking a low and almost sinister curl to it.

"We just need to give Zeon one more victory and the Federation will submit, such is Kycilia's aim." What wasn't said but both men knew was: _And she will finally be in a position to surpass Gihren back in the homeland._ Gihren and Dozle may have handed Zeon the victory at Loum but if Kycilia ensured a unconditional surrender then that would overshadow even the greatest of military triumphs.

He rose from the chair, pushing away from the large circular table within the briefing room. Ultimately whether Kycilia was lauded as the hero of Zeon during the war by bringing it to swifter conclusion or her gambit ended up doing nothing but prolonging it...He'd be content.

In this era of soldiers, icons and legends he was standing among them. He was proving his worth to them, he had served the Zabi family indirectly ever since joining the military, but now he was being directly tasked by them. It would be a humbling experience if it wasn't what he had demanded of him upon enlistment. He expected himself to achieve greatness, to be proven as the equal if not superior to anyone within the entire ranks of their service.

His merit was unquestionable now, he was acknowledged.

"Right. Well I will be ready to go when we are needed, my suit is as repaired as can be after Loum." After his conversation with Poulin he had become concerned about the state of his machine but there was little to be done for it now, Poulin as their engineer had done all he could. All the proper repair work would have to come later, and hopefully it wouldn't become clear to him that he should have simply requested another machine. Yet even if that was the case, he was still somewhat possessive of the state of the art Zaku II. That pinnacle of the minds of Zeonic was a machine given to him by one he respected as both a fellow soldier and officer.

Delaz had gifted him that unit in the pursuit of Zeon's victory, that made it substantial. Such attachment wasn't normally his preference but then again it wasn't every day that you were handed one of the more advanced Zaku units after the aging mass production model you'd had to make do with since joining the mobile suit corps. He had flown his old Zaku I on countless drills, scouting missions but until the outbreak of war, never into combat. While the machine had held its own, its age and limitations had grown increasingly evident at Side Two. While any mobile suit was better then what the Federation could hope to field against them, he deserved more, better, he was a pilot of proven ability and skill now...so clearly his ego reflected reality.

His squad mate's own Zaku were far superior to his own, and despite him being the ranking officer he was forced to make do with using it. Though he had been assigned the mobile suit for the sake of wartime expediency and the sheer stock of them present within their military, all the same...he was grateful to Delaz for ensuring that he was given better. He had been acknowledged by the man for his ability and completion of his mission, moral scruples or lack of them aside, Delaz had recognized his worth.

"Good to hear, as soon as I get the green light from Kycilia I shall have our unit transferred back aboard the Argus and depart towards Side One, but as you know we won't be taking the ship that far." Yes that had been mentioned in the briefing, the Argus was only taking them part of the trip to their final destination at Side One. They would be leaving it mid journey.

"Yeah we are going to meet with that captured Feddie freighter and use it to coast into Side One's airspace and hopefully get aboard undetected in Shangri-La. I remember." Truth be told? He wasn't looking forward to going back to Side One, the first time he had arrived there had been as a conqueror, a soldier, a single finger of Zeon's mighty fist, surrounded by comrades and brothers. Now he was slinking back there not at the head of a armada, not one of the brave legions of Zeon's finest, but on a mission of secrecy and destruction.

There would be no glory gained from this, no accolades to be hoisted upon him, even if they completed this perfectly it would just be another deniable black operation. If it failed, then they likely would all die but hopefully they would be able to make the Federation bleed for it a little bit. Yet if they did succeed, even if it was not known, even if it was buried in the darkest hole of the Zeon military archives he would benefit from it.

Perhaps not lauded as a media darling like Aznable but all the same those who mattered within Zeon would know his worth.

All the same it was his duty to go, whatever the Federation had stored within that facility would be cosmic dust even if he had tear the base down with his bare hands.

* * *

 **January 25th, 0079**

 **Federation Bulk Freighter: Tripoli**

 **Earth Sphere: Side One Approach**

 **Outer Colony Perimeter**

 **0700 Hours**

The Feddie ship was disgusting not just in design and inferior performance to anything ever produced by Zeon but in its sheer makeup. The former crew had let several of the vessel's interior bulkheads and panels become covered in some sort of black mold, open light fixtures lay spread across the inner corridors and walkways. Rust was seemingly touched upon every surface within the ship and the entire thing just stank of old grease and industrial solvents. He knew that privately contracted traders weren't held to the same standard as their navy but even so...how had this rust heap kept going year after year? It seemed the only thing holding it together was patchwork repair jobs and spit.

Yet what soured his mood even more were the well worn coveralls and greased mechanic apparel that adorned him place in the uniform that he had worn for more then half a decade. He had earned his rank, his uniform, his place in the glorious society of Zeon, of the coming Empire. Yet for now he was forced to play the role of a mere technician from the now destroyed Side Four alongside his squadmates. His stock standard features, the blending of bloodlines that resulted in the Zeonic people were cast aside in favor of this disguise.

He'd dyed his hair an annoying darkened gray, allowed stubble and facial hair to set in while he normally worked to prevent such substandard growth. _'All for the sake of the mission.'_ He reminded himself, he wasn't meant to look the part of the soldier, the pilot, the proud Zeon that would plant his boot upon the Federation's inferior throat. He was supposed to resemble the unwashed masses that made up the Federation, yet another member of its colonial properties. A slave by any other name, it was only a skin deep transformation yet at the same it was insulting to him.

As he ascend through the main corridor of the straightforward interior coming upward to the cockpit he noted Emre and Roland both were stations, Drevis and Poulin were both likely still within the bowels of the vessel stowing away what limited equipment they could smuggle into Side One alongside the various technical and computer components that made up the vessel's cargo. He had been told not to expect anything miraculous on that front and he wouldn't, at best they would be able to bring in Sidearms and perhaps some communication equipment, anything that could be easily disassemble and stowed away within the dozens of containers that filled the vessel's hold.

"Dieter, good timing we are just about ready to signal our little _surprise_." Roland stated with a small if strained smile. They had been given assets for the infiltration of Side One, something to mask their approach and allow them to hopefully enter their destined colony without too much fuss or attention. Kycilia had ordered the 74th Mobile Fighter Division on standby to launch a raid of opportunity on Side One's interior colonies. It was one of the few non depleted fighter squadrons after Loum and even more then that, it was brought to Granada mere days ago, it seemed as if fate was smiling upon their mission.

Of course the fighter pilots were not informed of their presence there, nor that their activities were being used as a smoke screen to allow their entry. It worked out better that way for both parties, they could content to gorge themselves on the Federal ships and positions while they moved into position. They could operate under the belief that this was being done as a legitimate attack, it would give them purpose after all. They could be as soldiers of Zeon were to be, facing off against their inferiors and securing themselves as the bastion of purity and pride that would stand above all other civilizations.

The 74th was stationed within a collection of Zeon bulk cargo freighter's that had been modified to act as carrier's akin to the Federation's own Columbus series. While they had dedicated vessels that could contain them, this was a stealth mission and the arrival of a fleet in sector would undoubtedly send the entire Side into lock down, no this would if the plan worked as intended it would force them to bring in all the nearby civilian traffic once the assault began. If everything went to plan then they would begin their attack within the hour just as they were beginning their approach to Shangri-La.

"This rusty tug better hold up if we have to maneuver through a battlefield." Emre stated amicably he began typing in their flight plan into the navigation computer and making final adjustments for their insertion into Side One. They were committed now either way, if this was to work or not they would have to leave to the whims of fate and history. He despised having his success hinge upon the actions of others but it was something he had long ago come to accept being placed within the military, he was only in command of his fate when he was piloting. Outside of his mobile suit he was reliant on the abilities of his fellow soldiers.

Yes within the hour they would all learn if this was going to work was intended or fail utterly.

The dense wreckage and clouds of debris that made up Side One's outer field neared closer and closer with every passing heartbeat, yet not all was destruction, steady traffic continued to flow to and from the colonies, life went on...even in a time of war it seemed.

"Prepare for the hail, we have a few minutes before everything is set to kick off." Roland commanded as he undid the straps and restraints that kept him latched securely in place, floating free he gave Dieter a grim look before attaching a rather sinister looking electronic device to the bridge's communication array. After only a few seconds of study he had come to the conclusion that it was some sort of scrambler module. He knew that were the one's who were to signal for the attack to be launched, to assure them of a proper berth in their target but even so...what if the encryption didn't hold up? What if this cipher code was compromised?

But if that was the case then how were they to signal for the attack? Morse code? No he would have to trust that this method wouldn't fail them, their success, their very lives hinged upon this gamble working.

Digging into his worn and well used coveralls he retrieved his pack of cigarettes once more, sticking the little paper tube between lips and bringing the ancient flip lighter to its edge he ignited the tobacco and instantly a haze of smoke entered his lungs as he drew in a breath. He'd even had to give up Zeon cigarettes, his normal brand _Royal Reserve_ was a blend restricted to the fields of Side Three's bunch colonies after all, and a sure indicator of one's origin. In their place he had purchased some off brand cheap Federation swill, the strain was weak, the paper used inferior and overall it was just a lackluster smoke but...he'd make do for the sake of the mission.

As smoke pooled from his nostrils the scrambler let out a high pitched whine as it sent away Roland's command to the nearby disguised Zeon freighters.

Soon they'd see just what the 74th was made of, if this plan would succeed at all. Yet again he groused about having to leave his C back on the Argus which was set to maintain a suitable distance outside scanner range with Typhon's suits aboard awaiting their signal to be delivered to them for the final leg of their mission. Hell if you asked him the entire operation was needlessly complicated, why bother infiltrating the colony at all, use the disguised freighter merely to smuggle a single Zaku into firing range and unleash a volley of nuclear shells and that research base, and everything else aboard that colony would cease to exist.

But of course his preference was inconsequential and he was to defer to Kycilia's whim.

* * *

 **January 25th, 0079**

 **Side One, Federal Space Forces General Command Headquarters**

 **Inner facility, Communications Center**

 **Earth Sphere: Side One**

 **0700**

What had been a fairly normal morning within the Federal Space Command Headquarters had quickly become anything but. While talks of meetings between representatives of Side Three and the Federation neared every day as peace loomed nearer and nearer no one had expected that this of all mornings would be when Zeon showed its true colors. Outlying surveillance systems and sensors designed to track and monitor incoming and outgoing vessels picked up on a collection of large cargo haulers that had suddenly began accelerating, ignoring several hails and with communication seemingly useless the Federal Space Forces had been sent into investigate and if necessary neutralize any possible threats to one of the few remaining Federally aligned Sides.

Sipping gingerly from a small Styrofoam cup of coffee she watched the display with growing unease. This was unusual, and unusual in a time of war usually led to bad things.

As soon as the assigned Missile Frigate had neared the closest of the haulers however it had exploded, literally. Its primary hold just blowing out as the rest of the vessel crumbled around it revealing what had been stored within.

Zeon Gattle Fighters, a lot of them. As if by some sort of precognition or some otherwise otherworldly ability the remaining other two freighters had also detonated outward in similar fashions within seconds of the first. Soon the patrol boat was under siege by a swarm of Gattle the likes of which she hadn't seen since the battlefields of Loum. Due to the fact no particle dispensation had taken places all the sensors and commlines remained active which from this room gave them the grim picture that they were dealing with nearly a full flight squadron of Gattle.

Almost forty separate space borne fighter craft that from how they ripped apart the missile boat were obviously loaded for bear on this raid on Side One. Klaxons wailed and men scrambled to stations as Side One once more became a battlefield. The material of the cup groaned in her gloved hand as subconsciously clenched her fists. The cup slipping from her grip all she could do is look at the data was scrolling across the screens, the fighters were moving to engage the traffic across the outer bounds of the Side from their current trajectory.

They would rip that civilian traffic apart, supply ships, incoming and outgoing transports, they would undoubtedly butcher anything and everything they could on their way to or leaving Side One. This raid wasn't on the Federal military but on the civilians that were under their banner. The room was a panic of activity as the defensive pickets were signaled and forces marshaled, but it would take time...time in which the Zeon pilots would be free to terrorize and kill as they pleased until they could meet them.

 _'Spineless Zeon...'_ Wasn't Side Four and Five enough? Wasn't dropping a colony on Earth enough? Just how many people did those bastards have to kill before they were content? How many people would have to die before Gihren and Degwin Zabi and their legion of demons were satisfied?

She stared at the sensor board once more before turning on her heels and strolling towards the nearest lift, there was a battle raging outside of these walls, and she had a newly repaired and refitted Saberfish, like hell if she was going to let those Zeon bastards murder anymore civilians without lifting a finger. Fists clenching within the gloves of her normal suit, no she wasn't facing mobile suits here, she was facing fighter pilots, same as her which put them on more or less even ground.

She could stop them.

She would stop them.

She paused mid-step. _'Stop them?'_ That thought rang out within her skull as she recalled the horrors of Loum, the merciless slaughter of her fellow Federal soldiers, that arrogance and pride that drove these Spacenoids onward.

 _'Stop them...'_

To hell with that she'd kill them.

* * *

 **January 25th, 0079**

 **Federation Bulk Freighter: Tripoli**

 **Earth Sphere: Side One Approach**

 **Outer Colony Perimeter**

 **0700 Hours**

Explosions dominated the viewport before them as they continued onward approach towards Side One. So far the fighters hidden within the cargo freighters had much of the traffic scrambling for the safety of the Federation colonies, even as they rained death on those too slow to escape their fire. Several of the civilian ships had been targeted and destroyed by the swarms of Gattle along with the token Federal military presence that was being scrambled, but even as he witnessed the battle he knew the tide would soon enough turn.

The Zeon fighters were enjoying this early victory because they had taken the Federation completely unaware and thus wholly negated their numeric advantage, but as soon as ships were scrambled, the Gattle would be swamped fighting not only missile frigates but cruisers, and perhaps actual battleships, not to mention the Federation's own fighter craft. Then the 74th would have to disengage and flee back out of the territory, or risk being overwhelmed. Yet for now they were enjoying ther carnage of battle, ripping asunder shuttles and transports with raking streams of machine gun and cannon fire, burying the scarce defenders of those vessels in guided missiles and bombs.

They of course were doing their part as well, playing up the helpless merchant vessel, begging for aid even as they continued on course. He actually smiled as he witnessed the end of one of the helpless ore extraction transport mere tens of thousands of kilometers out from them. They were a single vessel in a veritable sea of them, the chances of them being targeted even with the fighters pilots being unaware of their identity were minute. Yes the chances of _friendly fire_ occurring here were relatively low, he thought as much until machine gun fire tore into their hull.

Smile disappearing beneath a veneer of outright rage he scowled as several fighters continued to circle their ponderous vessel pouring forth volleys of fire into it, ripping the thin hull free of the vessel with their barrages, stray rounds bounced through vacant halls and corridors and all they could do was slowly flee towards the safety of the colonies. This was ridiculous, here they were being targeted by their own forces on their way to infiltration, and if this kept up they'd be destroyed before even making it to the Side One proper. The outer rings of colonies stood scant distance away but in this condition they'd be lucky if they made it a quarter of the way to them before their vessel simply gave out, it was a civilian ship, it wasn't designed to survive anything more then micro debris and standard space collision, it was not made for war.

Fire swam across their viewport as tracer rounds punched against the forward compartments of the vessel, he witnessed Emre's normally laid back and jovial features tighten into something resembling frustration and outright anger meanwhile Roland was busy requesting assistance still on the commline back to the Federal garrison, who were insisting that Federal forces were in route.

As their vessel rocked under the fury of the Zeon machines he couldn't help but ponder the irony of this possibly being where he was fated to die...merely days after the greatest triumph of his life so far...at the hands of his own countrymen no less. As explosions and wrath tore into the vessel, as compartments and sections lost pressure, as he quickly sealed himself within the _safety_ of a normal suit. All throughout it he couldn't help but think that this would be such a wasteful method of death, such a shameful way to exit out of life.

He certainly deserved better, as a singular Gattle tore itself from its squadron and began its final approach, its gun glazing hot death against their armor, penetrating through the thin hull, such a wasteful way to die. Not in titanic battles against the enemies of Zeon, not crushing resistance to it or its rulers, not even facing down a respectable opponent but at the hands of one of his fellows, another pilot of Zeon...The Gattle continued its hurtling approach, missiles loaded within its hardpoints poised to deliver the final blow were loosed upon the sluggish freighter.

The interior of the cockpit now reduced to barking instrument panels, smoke and sparks trailing from busted monitors and gauges, the franatic efforts of Roland and Emre to keep the vessel together disappeared in a flashing cone of white that rended steel and composite.

His final thoughts before darkness came upon him in a rush of force and fury were simply: _I deserve more._

* * *

 **AN: Well there we have the final chapter leading into conclusion of the story. Operation Black Light is set to begin next chapter, and we shall see what fate has in store for the colony, Typhon and Dieter. I know I left you fellows on a little bit of a cliffhanger but hopefully that isn't too taxing for the viewers here. Nothing else really needs to be said I think, we have finally crossed the gap into the finale. Soldier of Zeon is nearing completion and I do hope it proves enjoyable to you all, never let it be said that I did not put the viewer as a concern while writing.**

 **Please remember to follow, favorite and review though!**

 **Till next time.**

 **-Reborn Akatsuki**


	13. Prelude to Black Light

**AN: Here we are for thirteen and the meat of the final stretch of the fic, this and the next chapter will be the exciting finale of: The Soldier of Zeon. Truth be told, this fic looking back wasn't all that long, I mean I had it planned to end around here and merely a few months later here we are for that. I do hope that this final stretch of the fic proves enjoyable to all those who have followed it since it began, and for all those who have come along for the ride since then.**

 **I also hope that the little cliff hanger I left you all on didn't grow tiresome, I mean despite knowing Dieter would survive the strike I do hope that those who have read this story and its accompanying fic that he would be severely injured during this operation at Side One caused at the very least some...anxiety I suppose. Whether you enjoy the character for his merits or don't, whether you view him as just a listing of tropes or something well constructed I do hope that the scenarios I have thrown together have at the very least connected the reader somewhat with the narrative.**

 **With nothing more to say on the matter lets get to the disclaimer.**

 **Disclaimer: I still don't own Gundam although I have a few schemes in action to perhaps acquire the franchise around the time I can turn lead into gold!**

* * *

 **Sparks and fire danced before him.**

His eyes were closed and yet he could still make out the immense flashes and births of the temporary suns as they dawned.

He heard nothing save his own breathing, saw nothing saw the inferno through his eyelids, felt nothing save the pressure and strength of another body on his own. This was not death, he still drew breath. He saw the end come for him in that missile, a projectile loosed by one of their own, it was a ironic fate to die at hands of not the political intrigue of his people, not the whims and games that were played by the Zeon elite but friendly fire.

He felt the body supporting his own stir and once more they were moving, his head radiated with a intense piercing pain, but he had felt worse. He felt the warmth of blood trickling down his brow, felt the wisps of flame dying out in the airless interior as the internal store of oxygen was consumed.

He clung to life though all the same, he lived which meant that he was intended to not die to this senseless action, regardless of whatever else came of this day.

...He would survive it.

He would endure it.

He'd endure anything.

In that infinite void for a brief singular moment there was accompanying flash of white that illuminated the darkness before fading outward and once again casting everything to black.

* * *

 **January 25th, 0079**

 **Side One, Military Quarter**

 **Shangri-La, Federal Space Dock**

 **1500 Hours**

His eyes opened to blackness, the infinite void swam within his vision. The faint and ebbing lights of artificial make danced in his sight. Was he still aboard the Tripoli? He remembered little of the events following the missile strike, the cockpit had been blown apart even as Roland and Emre had struggled to maintain the craft's bearing. Smoke and fire trailed upward eating greedily away at the precious oxygen that filled the vessel, yet then there was that flash. A bright field of white consuming steel and composite. Silence followed the descent into the darkness.

Clearly he still lived however, he wouldn't be feeling the aftereffects of the blast had he now, pain radiated outward from his frame, attesting to the brutality of the concussive force of the missile as it detonated. Undoubtedly he had been flung back several meters at least before coming to rest at a less then soft object as his momentum was broken...Yet as clarity returned, as his vision cleared, he noted that he was merely staring outward, the thick transparent material of viewport fixed to the bulkhead had consumed his cone of vision.

It was then that he noticed that he was no longer with the skin tight and comforting material of the normal suit, the sealed and pressurized rigging had been pulled off his frame and instead upon this...gurney he rested in the stained and torn coveralls that he had donned at the onset of this mission. Activity buzzed around him, frantic and stern voices abounded and it was he knew his location.

He was aboard a colony cylinder, a Federal colony.

These people scurrying about this makeshift field hospital were Federal military undoubtedly.

Had they been uncovered? Had the rest of the team survived? He didn't awaken to a rifle pointed in his face so perhaps his cover remained intact but without the rest of Typhon...

Could he accomplish this mission on his own?

He was skilled, he was strong, he was a excellent and proven warrior of growing reputation but...without his suit, without his team, without any method of contacting the Argus. It seemed as if in that instance his mission had ended before it had even began, if he was the sole surviving member he'd have to default to his prior thoughts on the matter, return to the Argus and claim his suit and launch a assault on the cylinder itself with nuclear weapons. flashes of memory and fragments of the past raced through his eyes at the thought.

Images of a colony wreathed in flame descending downward into the planet, colonies exploding outward, cut into pieces through streams of mega particle cannon and missile fire. Shaking those memories away he focused, gritting his teeth he attempted to lift himself from the portable bed only to find himself incapable, his limbs felt noodle like, leaden. His flesh was not insensate so he could rule out paralysis, he could still feel yet he was incapable of movement. A tranquilizer or some sort of other chemical?

Something to ensure that he rested and kept out of the way while the recovery effort continued onward?

"You should stop moving, you were lucky out there another few minutes and we might never have recovered you at all." A stern voice resounded through his ears. Letting out a held breath as grimace formed upon his face, his eyes twisted to make out the holder of the voice.

The voice as it happened belonged to a woman, a fairly attractive one if he was being honest but given that his interest in the fairer sex often times solely revolved around simple physical gratification and base pleasures...he wasn't sure if his attraction spoke more of them or himself. The blonde hair of the female drifted down her forehead as she wiped what seemed to be a fairly substantial amount of sweat from her brow. The rest of her attire gave testament that, a snug and smooth Federation issue normal suit coated her body, though the stock standard white was darkened from dust and use.

"You the one who pulled me out?" His voice came out gravel like from disuse and undoubtedly whatever numbing agents they had pumped into him, his mouth tasted of cotton and sand.

"Me?" She seemed surprised by the question, her body language was one of control and discipline, clearly she fit into the arena of this medical ward, but if she wasn't emergency personal then...what? What was she? "No I didn't get you out of the wreck, you or any of the others. I just ensured that the EMT's could do their job and save any survivors." His mind flashed back to the blinding cone of white, the light and flame of the missile as it carved the front of the ship inward.

So what then? Was she a operator on one of those missile frigates? A pilot?

The figure shifted and approached more closely, edging into his vision.

"First Lieutenant Meryl O'Sullivan-Federation Space Forces. First Fleet recently transferred." She offered him a strained smile as she glanced over his own worn and dirtied coveralls and undoubtedly searched for any indicator of identification. "Mister..." She paused as he offered he a belated thin smile.

They bore the same **rank**...or at least the Federation's equivalent to the Principality's own ranking system.

Yet even that paled to the revelation she had handed him after that introduction.

 _First Fleet?_ He felt his blood churn within his veins in a mixture of appreciation and outright burning desire to snap that blonde bitch's neck right then and there. That amassed fleet, the soldiers whom he had faced and overcome at Loum, he knew some would survive, escape and flee back to either here or Luna II and yet he never thought he'd encounter one face to face. Yet here she was, a blatant example of his failure to kill the enemy, undoubtedly had they faced each other on the field that day, he would have ended her, or at the very least tried.

His lip curved upward smoothly. Perhaps that could wait for another day, after all here she was inside Side One, hopefully inside the target colony, no doubt if he actually got the final stages of his mission, he'd have ample opportunity to kill her if she joined the base's defense. Yes. That would be something to look forward to.

"Joseph. Joseph Tetium. Formerly of the independent freighter Tripoli I suppose...out of Side Six." The recited lies flowed through his mouth despite his drugged state, he had been issued credentials, a history, a life that was not his own. The entire team had been given cover IDs to work under while in Side One although no doubt much of their documentation had been lost unless if someone on the team had thought to salvage it before the Tripoli was gutted.

Joseph Tetium, if that name was researched it would lead to a dozen trading contracts, connections with various merchant houses and guilds spread across Side 2 and Side 6. Born in 0059 in Side Five, joined on with Imago Trading, one of the larger merchant groups doing runs between various Sides. Notably Side Six, the very bunch in which the business kept its home office, not wealthy, not married, no military or paramilitary connections, a thoroughly boring and uninteresting read.

And according to Kycilia's men, a perfect cover for a saboteur or infiltrator.

However the link with Imago was not false, indeed the Tripoli had been registered to the company despite in reality being a wartime capture, that was because Imago was in reality a front. A front for Zeon, what better way of moving personal, materials and other commodities throughout occupied space then supposedly under the banner of a merchant vessel, operated by a private company, housed in a neutral Side?

"Well Mr. Tetium you were lucky, if that fighter had gotten off a second missile I doubt we'd be here having this conversation." Her tone seemed surprisingly chipper despite the gravity of what she had said, indeed he had nearly been killed by friendly fire, yet if he had survived no doubt the team would too. Though he had no idea of their whereabouts and this woman was seemingly in no position nor had no inclination to inform him of their fate.

"Well that's good, I take it you are the one who downed it then?" He questioned, she had remarked upon her position with the fleet, and she wore a normal suit, either she was a crewman on a warship or she flew...and if she flew then she had no doubt shot down that Gattle. He bore her no ill will for that particular deed, that moron in the fighter had nearly killed him after all, nearly undid all the planning and preparation for this mission, for that to be destroyed merely by the actions of a trigger happy fighter jock...

"Yeah I killed that Zeke bastard." She stated with a mixture of both pride and what seemed outright disgust, though he noted quite evidently not at herself. Did she hate them? Did she hate Zeon? She was of the Federation, one of its numerous pawns and cogs working in concert with its grand self fulfilling design so she likely did...yet that hate burning within her eyes, the malice that coated her words, it bore a striking familiarity to his own. He merely gave a nod in reply as he settled upon the gurney.

He offered no verbal reply yet she did not quit his side, he pondered upon his assumption. Did she hate those who dwelt in space in general? Did she carry the dogma of the elite of the Federation in her heart? Was her hatred not as focused as his own? As poised as his own, if so then he'd be disappointed. Yet even as he thought that he'd doubted it to be true, she wouldn't have come over to check on him after all, if she bore hatred of Spacenoids, no she bore Zeon ire. Was it for something senseless and petty like morality or justice? They fought because they demanded the attention of the lesser humans that dwelt upon Earth and yet dared to dream of ruling the stars themselves.

They fought for freedom, liberation, not merely of the Sides, of those who dwelt within space but of humanity itself. They would rip mankind away from the diseased hands that sought to wrap it within its grasp.

"...Sorry. Its been a long couple of weeks." She offered a moment later no doubt taking his lack of comment as some sort of offense to him. Offering him a weak smile and such a pitiful apology he merely gave her a small bob of the head in return. His mind was too consumed by these racing thoughts to be distracted by such paltry concerns as further conversation. No he wasn't interested in this woman, he was interested within what lurked within her mind.

They both carried hatred with them into battle used that emotion like a fuel. Poison to give weight and impact to their deeds and actions. She hated Zeon, for what and why he did not know nor in truth did he care to learn but...that familiarity was striking, here he was having a conversation with a Federal soldier, a _Feddie_ , the enemy and yet what was he to feel except this kinship? As a fellow warrior who sought to erase the very fabric of their respective civilizations from human memory, he would give her the respect she was due.

Of course he'd still have to kill her if they ever met in combat, that would the only outcome destined for them, no doubt she'd shoot him dead here and now if she knew who he really was, what he really was.

Smiling as he arranged his teeth internally, he bit deeply into the interior of his own lip. As blood oozed against his tongue, forcing his taste buds to submerge themselves into liquid copper he couldn't help smiling, indeed if he didn't do this here and now he had the notion he'd likely laugh. And of course that couldn't be permitted, no, it would undoubtedly raise numerous flags with medical personal, and the last thing he needed was some sort of mental charge leveled against him, he would not rot out this war in asylum.

Yet that woman plagued his mind with these thoughts, thoughts that didn't leave yet forced him to endure their flighty fancy. He noted the approaching voices, the chatter of medical personal as they neared, he noted her own apprehension and undoubtedly hurry to leave. Yes if she knew just who was lying upon this gurney, just who she had before her, one of the butchers of Side Two, one of the people who had gassed millions, no doubt she'd be giving him a quite different reception.

But she didn't. And as doctors and medics came back into focus and she faded out of view, he couldn't help but feel that this mission truly was the gateway to his own future.

* * *

 **January 25th, 0079**

 **Side One, Civilian Terminal 9**

 **Shangri-La, Transport Docking**

 **1900 Hours**

He had done it. They had done it.

The medical staff after the Lieutenant had left had been far more forthcoming. He was aboard Shangri-La, the very colony he had come to obliterate, home to the research that Kycilia wanted so desperately destroyed. Victory was within sight already. So easy, so stupidly easy to overcome the seemingly insurmountable obstacle of infilitration, all it took was the loss of a single ship and his potential death and he was let loose into Federal colony.

The prior four hours had been a blur of activity and movement. He had been discharged from the makeshift medical ward, had been given stringent warnings by the staff to avoid strenuous activity for several weeks but otherwise given a clean bill of health. Being ushered out into the public section of the terminal and out of the military wing he noted the numerous other people milling about, no doubt many had been aboard the transports and ships that had been incoming to Side One during the course of the attack and yet all the same he did not see the faces he hoped to among the innumerable crowd.

Yet even so his eyes scanned the crowds, watched for movement and tells of his team, or the unlikely but all too possible Federal tails. While he doubted they would be smart enough to keep an eye upon him, he none the less kept an eye open for obvious pursuers.

The thin line of his frown cut into his face as he walked among the interior of the terminal for another period of minutes, yet for every group he passed through, despite all his examination,all his study of faces he didn't catch a single glimpse of any other members of Typhon. He had been informed by the medical staff that he had not been the only crewmen pulled from the wreckage of the Tripoli, indeed apparently they had suffered no losses, yet all the same where were they? Had they been ousted? If that was the case then why had he been released? If the Federation had any of the slightest glimmer of insight into their purpose they would have all been imprisoned and grilled for information until they broke...

Where were they then? No doubt they'd seek to link up with him again at the soonest possible chance. Yet no trace of them could be found within the terminal, the prior elation he felt at simply strolling into the colony that held that which they came to destroy so easily faded. He still had outsmarted those who would stand against him obviously, infiltration was a success, yet without the needed manpower and materials the destruction of that research base would be a tricky thing to arrange by himself.

Would his best bet be to try to exit the colony and to link up with the Argus again? Perhaps if he could do that then maybe, just maybe he could get this done with his Zaku at the very least, conventional means would be impossible just by himself. However those thoughts could wait until he was sufficiently convinced to write off his team completely, perhaps they had merely been held up or already moved on to their arranged meeting spot. Either way it was too earlier, and too easy to give up on them here and now.

Digging into his coveralls he noted with some grim distaste that both his lighter and cigarettes were absent from them. Maybe they had just been knocked loose from his person when he had been pulled out of the normal suit and examined by the Federation, perhaps they had been confiscated, or perhaps they had been lost during the destruction of the Tripoli if that was the case that would be disappointing. He held attachment to that lighter, he had purchased it with his first pay chit from the Zeon Military all those years ago, it had trailed after him ever since he had become a soldier.

It was a reminder of his service, beyond being an enabling device for his habits and vices, it was a symbol. Letting out a weary and held sigh he finally gave up on the chance of finding them within the terminal, the busy process of searching restrooms, the food courts, and interior lobbies had taken the better part of an hour but it was finally time to call it quits and begin his search elsewhere.

That thought in mind came with a destination, to reach it he'd need to exit the terminal.

As he exited the terminal via a placement of sliding doors, revealing the artificial sunlight of the colony and his first look at a Federal colony that he wasn't in the midst of gassing he sighed.

All he could do was hope to link up with the team at the prearranged safe house. Searching the entire thing would take far too long and nothing could get in the way of the mission, if he had to accomplish this by himself he would...it would just be infinitely harder.

* * *

Finding the prearranged lodging for the team during the course of the mission wasn't difficult. Indeed the aged and worn down tenement housing was practically a glowing landmark in the region. As one escaped from the central districts and moved further into the populated regions of the colony, the polish and flair of the commercial districts and space port faded, replaced by grime and destitution. He realized that of course this would be normal, throughout history during the course of war the poor remained poor, the outcasts remained shunned and those who were ignored by the more wealthy elements of society remained ignored.

Those who toiled away to build the Federation its wealth and fleets were housed here, those who supported these colonies so they would not tumble into ruin, it reminiscent of his childhood, as if he had stepped back in time to when Side Three had been ruled by the Federation. The greed, the corruption and inefficiency all reeked of mismanagement all too common of the Federation. Yet these people endured it has they had since before the outbreak of the war, since before the creation of the Principality, since the very colonies themselves were being constructed decades ago.

Passing through throngs of crumbling homes, across cracked and torn roads, scrap piles and shanty towns, the solid foundation of the state housing almost looked the part of a oasis within the desert of this crumbling poverty. _'Zeon will change this.'_ The Federation existed to feed the vanity and wealth of the elite, it ignored everything else in its quest for profit and power, Zeon would balance the state of humanity, they would all strive towards a singular goal, together in tandem. Yet all the same his compassion if that were the word for this sensation did not extend overly far. The people here, the would be Spacenoids simply allowed this, did not nothing against it, did not fight against what obviously should be fought...

Avoiding the crowds of destitute and unwashed was child's play, even the slums of Granada hadn't resembled this, but despite the foulness lingering in the air, the sweat and stench that clung to everything, no one paid him much heed. After all he was simply another one of them to their eye, despite foreign ancestry, undoubtedly his attire, posture and all the minute details that cobbled together the character he was to play set them at ease, even if it didn't...he wouldn't even need a weapon to tear these people apart, though he reasoned violence would be last resort, if not for the attention it would bring it was to the fact that his body was still occasionally resounded with numbness that came and went as the drugs in his system waned.

Yet all the same these people would not stop him, just as they would not stop the Federation..

They were content here, allowed to live their petty little lives under the banner of the Federation.

It was disgusting, revolting on a scale too obscene to be categorize to describe what coiled within his breast at the mere notion of that occurring within Zeon.

He had memorized the needed address of the room within the complex that they were to occupy during the duration of the mission, rent and utilities were paid half a year in advance and it was supposedly to have enough space to comfortably five people and the needed gear they'd undoubtedly be bring in over the next few days. It was the last, best place to possibly link up with Typhon, if this didn't pan out he was out of ideas save just abandoning this portion of the mission in favor of overt action. Kycilia may complain about the destruction of this colony interfering with the peace process but, the research she wanted destroyed would disappear inside nuclear haze all the same.

* * *

 **Silence** greeted him upon entry into the room, after producing his counterfeit ID and confirming his identity with the older women in the reception office, he strolled through the tenement complex and discovering their assigned quarters. Sliding the old fashioned metal key into the lock and pushing the door inward revealed a darkened interior hallway, no sound, nor movement he could detect. Groping outward with his hand and flipping the light switch which thankfully rested just a few short feet from the door, the hall was illuminated.

The air was still, undisturbed prior to his entrance.

...There was no one here.

Had he miscalculated by not pressing the subject of his teammates? If he had then was this truly a wash? Was he supposed to just smuggle himself out of the colony as quickly and efficiently as possible now? Scowling he all but slammed the door close behind him and stomped into the hall, the vacant kitchen sat to his right, its prearranged and furbished furniture called out to him. With a grunt he seated himself within the confines of the large circular table that dominated the interior of the kitchen.

"What to do..." He hissed as he once again cursing the loss of his nicotine he grimaced at the realization that absent what he carried on him at present he had no resources. Money and such could be wired to him easily enough of course but...unless he went with the overt method of simply attacking the colony itself, he didn't know how he was supposed to accomplish this. Sighing he realized he hadn't slept since that medically induced stupor in nearly a full day, his body was showing signs of fatigue...along with his mood.

He supposed he would wait until the morning and then see if he couldn't get Kycilia via Imago to transfer him some funds so he'd have more to work with then nothing at all, but short of that he had no true insight into what he should or even could do that he hadn't already considered. He didn't consider himself a dim man, but this situation had spiraled out of the realm of his understanding and into the chaos and uncertainty that he would have to overcome or be lost to it. They'd had a plan to scope out the research and military facilities, and find the best way to infiltrate them or better yet destroy them, he could work off of that to start with.

He could begin his surveillance of on the morrow as well, if he was truly on his own then he'd merely have to make do with it.

* * *

 **January 26th, 0079**

 **Side One, Federal Garrison Command**

 **Shangri-La, Central District**

 **1100 Hours**

The Federation was despite the peace negotiations being ongoing in full force in Side One. No doubt despite the advances of Zeon these people hoped that the war would never reach them, that despite the defeat of the Federation at Loum, those fleets out there in the cold inky blackness of space would protect them. Those illusions would dissipate in the coming days, while certainly what they were planning to do went against the spirit of conducting negations in the hope of securing peace, they would however firmly secure Zeon as the victor of this conflict.

By hampering whatever the Federation was trying to achieve in its secretive research, Zeon would benefit and thus any subterfuge was allowed. It wasn't honorable, he wouldn't delude himself into thinking otherwise obviously but the Federation wasn't worthy of honor, perhaps its individual soldiers carried some semblance of it into battle but the Federation itself was a corrupt and callous thing, it would seek any means to victory, to preserve itself. To combat such a foe, to destroy such an enemy nothing could be left back in reserve, there could no moral low too steep to succumb to, no avenue of assault ignored on principle.

That was why after the following days events he had begun his initial task of just identifying the local Federation facilities, their labs, garrisons, offices and depots across the colony. While obviously he could not linger too close to them none the less he continued to observe, the more comprehensive information he had at his disposal the more concrete his efforts would be when the planning stage came around to the prospect of actually destroying his target.

Yet this observation of the Federation facilities was what ironically led him to his team, roughly two hours into his tenure of observing one of the armories from across the street at a conveniently placed cafe, amid the drinking of coffee, smoking and spying he noted that his gaze was not the only one upon the facility. Indeed merely a few hundred yards from his very position, a seeming technician was apparently doing work upon one of the local public telephone lines, yet he spent more time watching the patrol routes of Federal soldiers then he did trying to fix whatever was wrong with the phone booth. It wasn't until several minutes after he had initially noted the man did he get some clear indicator of just who else could have been spying on his target and the revelation was both immediately lifting of his spirit but also removed several of the lingering questions that he held about his team.

The would be technician was a larger man, his stocky and wide frame barely contained within the jumpsuit he wore yet as he rose upward apparently done with whatever _repair_ work he had been preforming he slid a hand held radio from his belt and undoubtedly began communicating with whatever supervisory position that had been fabricated to ensure that no concerns would be raised if the man's presence here was questioned. Lifting himself from the table and falling into step with the crowd, he crossed the street and made his way to the technician, as he approached his eye noted the dark skin, the pronounced musculature, the booming confident voice.

As the man's conversation concluded and he prepared to depart, that was when he approached him. Simply sliding into to step behind him, he softly recited the rehearsed confirmation code that had been grilled into his mind prior to Typhon's departure to Side One. "Cosmic dust litters the stars, but purity shines through the debris." It was so tacky in its symbolism it was almost vomit inducing but Kycilia was fond of her artistry and their own namesake was case and point of that. The man froze as the watch words left his lips, causing one half of his mouth to quirk upward in a grin as the man seemingly dumbfounded turned about in place, as the crowd passed through them their eyes met and the large man's own lip rose upward.

"Dieter...good to see you." Poulin offered after a heartbeat of silence.

* * *

 **Interlude To Destruction**

The proceeding days went on as initially planned, reunited with his teammates, his efforts continued onward in their aim to locate what was to be their target. Among the throngs of military bases, facilities, armories and labs across the colony they scoured to uncover just which held the secrets they sought. This continued onward, scouting missions, interception of what limited transmissions and materials that could without arousing over much suspicion. Warehouses were infiltrated, mainframes probed for relevant data, all in the hopes of discovering if not what the Federation was hiding then where it could be founded, where it was housed, where they need to travel to obliterate it and any who knew of it.

As Typhon continued their investigation the war and its peace negotiations continued onward, as the days pushed by official meetings were set for the 30th of the month, public announcements of that fact were done in order to placate the restless masses of the Federation, but to Typhon it merely gave them a timetable. That would be their strike window. They would need to uncover what they had come to destroy and achieve that objective before it slipped through their grip in the incoming victory that Zeon would undoubtedly achieve.

The location of their target arrived a mere three days before the planned talks were to arrive, by scouring a manifest uncovered at one of the numerous depots across the colony, they intercepted a unusual demand for Helium-3 and other fusion reactor components, this by itself was nothing yet combined with the pieces that had slowly fallen into their hands as they worked their way through warehouse after warehouse, sever after sever and it all pointed to a singular facility, a remote installation on the far corner of the colony, housed deep in the interior of its exterior. It also was one of the scarce few instillations with its own private space dock, yet all the same the target coming to them meant nothing if they did not have the means of outright destruction.

Yes to achieve this goal they needed more then the paltry sidearms that had been recovered from the Tripoli, they needed proper firepower, they needed mobile suits.

He only could hope that Roland had a plan in that mind of his to achieve that.

* * *

 **January 28th, 0079**

 **Side One, Residential Blocks**

 **Shangri-La, Yamato Tenements**

 **700 Hours**

 **"Hey Dieter! Wake up!"** The familiar tone of Captain Roland woke him from his weary sleep upon the uncomfortable and rather aged sofa he let out a groan as his eyes flicked open before he gave a grunt of acknowledgement. Today was the day then, the day they had been preparing for, he glanced a this wrist chrono before he eyed the Captain who was already departing to the other end of the rather sparse domicile the entire team was inhabiting before their mission was to be undertaken. If they were being roused for action then that meant that the Homeland had finally acknowledged their plan of action and had sent in the needed supplies, perhaps it had already been in transit but had only just arrived, regardless of the method of its arrival.

If what they needed had finally came to them, then they could begin. He pushed himself off the groaning and torn mattress before righting himself, his hazel eyes were blood shot and glazed from sleep. "There any coffee?" His voice was raspy and thin from lack of use as he entered the kitchen even as he heard the barking of Roland he tried to rouse Poulin and Emre, he spotted Drevis already sitting at the large kitchen table in the room that served as their makeshift dining room, in truth it like the rest of the tiny apartment was little more then the entry hallway, that was adorning the kitchen, even so they had drug the large circular table from the kitchen to the hall to ensure that there was adequate room in the space for actual cooking.

However atop the table he saw the answer to his question, numerous cardboard and sealed plastic cases that all bore the sigils and postmarks of Side Six's _Imago Trading and Associates_ , the little animated butterfly graphic was in fact the sigil of one of Kycilia's numerous front companies established for covert insertions of materials and supplies for operatives such as themselves working behind the regular Zeon supply chains. "Yeah I just brewed a fresh pot." The Petty Officer grinned at him as he raised his own mug in mock salute eliciting a small grunt of amusement from Dieter. "Good, I am going to need caffeine if we are going to do this shit." He grumbled out as he walked past the table, skirting the edge of the wall as he entered the kitchen only to find yet more containers and boxes from the same shipping company, several were already opened and he eyed the contents even as he reached for his own mug.

Pulling the freshly washed cup free of the sink, he noted with some grim humor that it was normal to him now to have something plain in utility like a coffee mug be among the tools for dealing death and destruction. They had come here for this purpose, and now had the materials to accomplish it.

He had worried about the needed firepower for their plan given that they had only been able to smuggle their own personal sidearms into Side One given that they were posing as factory workers...technicians and thus would have no purpose for any sort of firearm within the colony. That was no longer a concern within one of the bulkier unsealed packages he saw the familiar and comforting shape of the assembly of a ZM-35 assault rifle, no doubt given number of boxes and packages they had received several of them, if not even more weapons and equipment. Truth be told, they had received a far share of incoming mail over the prior days, perhaps he had simply overlooked the rather obvious implication that they were being supplied for the operation bit by bit.

Moments later they were joined in the tiny kitchen not only by the Captain but also by both Ensign Poulin and Lieutenant Emre. All of them stood in silence as they sipped their coffee, eyeing the collective score of kit before them. Roland finally broke the silence as he dug into his plain blue custodial jumpsuit and withdrew a packet of cigarettes, no longer did he bear the familiar brands of Zeon but of one of the local tobacco interests, no doubt to blend in more while scoping out their targets. He lit the thing before letting forth a slight whiff of smoke escape from his nostrils. It was time to get down to business, he could feel it, Roland was about to give them their first briefing of whatever he had concocted within that skull of his."You all know what we have to do today, our objective is to neutralize the Federation military base on the edge of the colony, opposite of the Spaceport, to do that we need to seize control of the nearby terminal, and have one of the hangars opened for our Mobile Suits to get into the colony via Komusai which will be launched via our friends in the vacuum once we send the signal. That shuttle will also be our ticket off this damn colony once we torch the base, which means we will need to maintain control of the hangar and launch control rooms until we are done." They all knew they had only one shot at this, what they were talking about would be the riskiest mission anyone of them had ever undertook before in their entire careers. Save perhaps of course Loum.

It appeared Roland had in fact been in constant communication with both Kycilia and the Zeon naval forces operating nearby, that was good it gave them the support they would need...without this mission would be suicide to even attempt.

To sneak into a Federally controlled colony, seize control of the Spaceport, bring in Zaku's and destroy a Federal military base all while trying to fight off not only the Feddies but the local response forces that would not doubt be called upon, the minute that there was a disturbance. There was only five of them, no doubt the forces arrayed against them were in the thousands at the very least. Typhon had pulled off some impressive victories before, at Loum they had devastated entire portions of a Feddie fleet, in that battle's aftermath they had ripped apart a ragged group of survivors trying to break from the battle. But **Black Light** was a step above all of that, this wasn't a fleet battle but a infiltration and neutralization mission.

It was what he had known Typhon's purpose to be the minute he had been inducted into this unit. They were going to strike a target that normal Zeon forces would never dream of attacking, and would never have a chance of actually hitting. "We will be splitting up for this assignment, Ensign Poulin will command the ground team to seize the terminal while me and Dieter here awaiting the arrival of the shuttle with our mobile suits, while we are doing that we will have to maintain control of the area, the local police or even worse the Federal military cannot penetrate the hangar until we have our suits in the colony or we are all dead." It was a simple enough plan in practice he supposed, they would have to seize control of the terminal, hold it until their ace in the hole arrived, destroy the base and whatever projects it held within that were of so great a concern to Kycilia and Zeon and return back to the terminal and depart aboard the shuttle to the nearby Zeon fleet.

As simple as it was however, his own experience with combat gave him little comfort in the solidity of their plan. Roland wasn't a fool and had more experience then anyone of them but even so, this operation called for an entire battalion of infantry to be assigned to it, they were supposed to seize control of Spaceport and hold it with just five men. Well five men and all their firepower they could hold he supposed. Roland gestured to the various boxes and packages shattered across the kitchen and its outer hall. "Gear up, we are leaving in a hour and a half, this mission will be in effect by **1000** hours standard."

"Yes sir." They all responded, he sipped at his coffee as he leaned against the counter. Fingers brushing against one of the larger packages he gripped the box with his free hand before pulling the slides open and revealing several smaller boxes of unmarked contents, but a simple shake of one revealed that they contained shell casings. Ripping it open and spilling the contents on the counter, his assumption proven accurate was several loose rounds tumbled free of the box, 7.62 cartridges, the standard ammunition of the Z-35, finishing off his cup of coffee and placing it to the side he grabbed the last of the free chairs as he threw the loose rounds back into the box before grabbing it along with several others and putting them upon the circular surface of the table.

Pouring the cartridges, box by box into a large mixing bowl simply for storage the now empty cardboard containers were tossed aside one after another until the bowl it self overflowing. That would simplify loading if nothing else, no doubt they had more ammunition scattered across the kitchen and adjoining hall, but that could be picked up later, they needed to get to work. He eyed the Petty Officer and gave a nod as he reached down and slapped another container table before pulling apart and grinning at the sight before him.

From another box was produced several large capacity drum magazines, not the standard box magazine for the rifle but enhanced capacity ones for extended engagements. He eyed them with mild appreciation, a hundred rounds per reload would certainly ensure that they could keep firing if the need arose. Grabbing one of the drums, he cracked it up by pulling apart the clasps revealing the rounded interior, before he began sliding loose pointed cartridges into place by hand. With every slink of metal falling into its designated slot, they were one step closer to what they needed to do, while he, Emre and Poulin were prepping the ammunition, Roland and Drevis were ripping apart other boxes and pulling out what appeared to be combat vests and blank issue black BDU's, several times he heard the ring of metal making contact with a surface, which to him indicated that no doubt they had also dug out some sort of insert, be it ceramic or metal to further strengthen the protective capabilities of the synthetic fiber weave of the armor.

Everything they were getting access to stunk of special operations, high performance gear, durable body armor, no doubt the Federation would think the same even without any knowledge of what was coming their way today. Pulling one of the rifles that had just been left at the edge of the table up into his lap, he eyed the weapon with detached precision, he knew basic field maintenance and upkeep but he had never used one of these in actual combat, but what was the difference between this and what he did regularly? He wasn't in his multiton war machine certainly but he was no stranger to killing. Slapping the drum magazine closed, he connected it to the feed ramp of the weapon with a satisfying click and pulled the hammer back, he heard the round enter the chamber.

This weapon was ready but it was only one of many to be prepared.

* * *

"Did Command specify rules of Engagement?" He questioned the Captain as he patted down his own BDU with his gloved hands to ensure that all the ceramic plates were covering his vital organs, truth be told he'd rather be wearing a normal suit but that wouldn't stop a bullet, this armor and the inserts within it would do that. At his hip was his standard issue side arm. The ZM08 while it was slowly falling out of favor with the Zeon military it was still the very first weapon he had trained with. Not to mention it's 8mm cartridges packed a heck of a punch for handgun and it was remarkably controllable for its power, overall while their may be better handguns entering service during the war, he'd stick to the 08. Across his left shoulder, in its sling was his assigned ZM-35 assault rifle the sleek and angular metal of the rifle and plastic made it a distinctively Zeon weapon. It was chambered for the 7.62mm, it was a effective semi and fully automatic weapon with impressive control and accuracy. Within the various satchels and pouches arranged across his armored body he bore seven-one hundred round drum magazines not counting the one already inside the weapon, and another five-thirty round stick magazines. He wasn't hurting for firepower, hell he had even picked up two spare magazines for his handgun despite the sheer firepower at his disposal with the rifle.

"No, they gave me operational authority for this run." Roland uttered as he secured his own gear. Like himself Roland was enmeshed in the plain black BDU with a over and outer layer of body armor, he had Drevis had even gotten creative and used some of the inserts to protect non vital areas such as the collarbone and had even rigged up makeshift leggings and riggings to not only have their center mass protected but also their arms and legs. While this makeshift armor was a far cry from the strength of the tactical rigs they were wearing, it was made up of the composite fiber weave and inner layers of additional padding and insulation same as the vests, they were bulky and would encumber them, but hopefully they would shrug off even military grade firepower, at least for a bit. He paused his activities for a moment, he trusted Roland and would follow his orders regardless but he would ask this here and now.

"So what are the rules of engagement?" They were heading for a civilian terminal, to seize control of a commercial Spaceport, it would undoubtedly contain its own security and police presence, but even so the vast majority within would be civilians. But just because they happened to not wear a uniform did not mean they couldn't interfere with their plans, not in the least. Yet even so he was hesitant to start a massacre here, but that would be Roland's call not his.

"Anything that gets in the way will be neutralized. Dieter, we have to get this done." Those words hung in the air for a moment before he gave a brief nod and checked his kit once again. _'So be it.'_ He wouldn't like it but he wouldn't object to a direct order, nothing would be allowed to stop them here today, this would not be a repeat of British. The blow they would land today would accelerate the end of this war far faster then any treaty signing.

"As you say sir." He stated as he noted that the others were all gearing up similarly to them, Drevis even seemed to be possessing some sort of explosive composite along with traditional grenades, that would certainly aid them in breaching any armored doors they needed to get through in the terminal to seize the control room. Not to mention they could potentially use some of it to rig the terminal itself, hold the building and the people within it as hostages, that would certainly grant them more time if not anything else. It was all a waiting game until that shuttle was docked, after that...there wasn't a fucking thing on this colony that would be able to stop them.

"Remember to grab the rags before we leave, no faces, no prints, no trace, nothing." He gave a nod as he walked back into the kitchen, his movement stiff and restricted by the pressure on his torso and limbs. Laying upon the counter was a simple balaclava with only a wide eye slit, all anyone would be able to note about him through his body armor and equipment would be his eye color and hazel wasn't exactly a rarity in the human race. Pulling it off the counter as he was joined by his fellows, he eyed them all, this was it. This could either become a moment of triumph to them all to boost about when this war ended, or something that resulted in all of them dying horribly fighting of hundreds or thousands of Feddie troops.

Luckily however Typhon knew had to adapt to situations like this and no matter the mood of the room, they would work onward regardless. They were all professionals, soldiers, they weren't some ranking novices, they had been grouped together because they were the best, and today they would prove it.

"We going to torch the apartment?" Poulin questioned as he slid on his own balaclava burying his musky looking chocolate brown hair beneath the black clothe of the mask.

"No, there is nothing here anymore, there will be no trace that anyone was here." Roland assured him, he likely was trying to reassure all of them, and he was right he supposed. All that would be left in the apartment was a bunch of DNA evidence they couldn't use as they didn't have access to Zeon's databases and the markers of this was indeed where they had prepared before going to the Spaceport, in the aftermath of this event...no answers would be gained from here. The evidence however he was most concerned with was not the shed skin or fingerprints, but the very real assortment of boxes and packages, all pertaining to and bearing the sigil of Imago...

That front company had served them well, it would be a shame if it was discovered to be a covert supplier of Zeon arms and materials to infiltrators...it would certainly not earn them any praise from Kycilia if one of her fronts were discovered. But Roland had operational authority and it was his call.

Gripping his own balaclava and pulling it down over his face he took a deep breath to steady himself and his nerves, he still had his pilot cocktail of reflex boosters and amphetamines but if they were heading into a actual gunfight, he rather be clearheaded then riding a rush, it wasn't as if he had anything but his own reflexes and team backing him up now, he wasn't within a massive war machine with its own sensor suite and onboard weaponry.

"Alright boys, let's do this." Roland stated as he gestured towards the garage door entrance with a gloved hand. There was nothing left to be said, no rousing speech of glory, no justification given for what they were about to do. All them were committed to the mission, regardless of wherever it took or the end resulted ended up being.

* * *

 **January 28th, 0079**

 **Side One, Transport Docking**

 **Shangri-La, Central District**

 **1000 Hours**

"Keep to the speed limit." Roland chided as Poulin drove the rented transport truck. The truck slowed and once again mirrored the traffic about it as they made their way through the narrow and orderly streets further into the interior of the colony. Final checks were done on weaponry, silent prayers and pleas were issued for the hope of survival and succeeding in their mission. The truck itself was divided into the front cab and the rear storage bay, the front seated two but had little room for storage, while the rear bay had excessive room. Designed for transportation of medium sized goods and products, it made up for its lack of seating with room to spare, to carry them, their weapons.

Anything they might happen to need. Drevis fiddled with the synthetic fiber of his rifle's strap as he ran gloved fingers down its material. With masks already down and them in route there were no final words of comfort, of promises of victory for them by the Captain, and the normally brash and fiery personality of Drevis lacked his trademark arrogance.

This mission had nearly ended at its onset, yet they had survived and here they were, on the way to the public terminal, to seize and hijack a primary hangar and hope they could hold out until the Argus could dispatch its shuttle along with some of the unit's mobile suits.

Running through internally all the drills and training that was instilled upon him brutally years prior by the Zum Academy kept him focused, yet more then that it reminded him that he was trained for this. He had fired one of these rifles before, in training certainly but he knew how it worked, how to operate it in a dozen climates and weather conditions, he was a professional.

A soldier.

A superior breed of human.

He had proven it before, and he would prove it again, he would stand among the victorious of Zeon, he would enable the end of this war. While he would not be lauded for his deeds this day, nor perhaps the deeds on the onset of the war, never the less he would be recognized. He would be proven worthy of his existence, he would accept nothing less, could stand nothing less.

Anything less was an insult to those who held his soul, to those who crafted him into what he stood as today, a warrior, a soldier, a defender of those who could not defend themselves,a remorseless killer. All these things and more were what Zeon had given him, entrusted him with, he carried their collected desires into the future, and through the blood he shed, through the sweat he toiled through...he would accomplish it.

Traffic cleared, streets narrowed as they entered the darkness of an underground parking garbage across the street to cater to Space Port motorists, they neared the true start of their mission. As the truck pulled to a stop he gave one final glance to his equipment, one final check to his gear, tightened his grip upon his rifle as he stood in the spacious interior of the rear of the truck.

Glancing down to the sewn in chrono on his wrist, he noted the approach of the start time.

As seconds passed and Roland along with Poulin clambered into the rear of the truck, climbing and pushing over the thick seats and braces. He awaited the carnage to come.

Roland had been issued carte blanche for this run.

Unlike at Loum he would be the one to dictate their plan of attack, their rules of engagement, their methods of conducting battle.

Not Dozle, not Kycilia, not even Gihren or Degwin.

His Captain.

Smiling thinly beneath his balaclava he stood statuesque, stone like in his lack of movement as Roland stepped forward pushing the large double bay doors of the truck open revealing the dim interior of the garbage.

Across the street stood their objective, across the street stood their destiny.

Across the street was the end of this war and his triumph.

His ultimate triumph, even if he never went down in history as a legendary ace if this mission succeeded, he would live forever, even if merely as some infamous shadow.

 _A phantom_.

* * *

 **AN: You want to know a interesting lore tidbit? The initial design for the standard Zeon battle rifle, the weapon I have dubbed for the sake of this fic the ZM-35. Was originally designed taking both aesthetic and design from both the AK-47 and STG-44 combat rifles. This was done according to the art book to give off a antagonistic sort of feel for the weapon, modeling it after two weapons in the arsenal of the USSR and defunct Nazi Germany. I personally think this is one of the many present images throughout MSG done to reinforce the feeling that Zeon is the enemy throughout the series.**

 **From the Zaku's sinister mono eye camera to the very rifles they carry into the field, these trademarks of the Zeon military are all designed to give off a sense of dread.**

 **On the subject of weapons I figured I would lay this out for any interested parties. The ZM-08 and Z08 are despite the cartridge interchange having occurred since the weapon's introduction still the same weapon with only mild differences between them relating to frame and caliber. To sum this up, Dieter's 8mm is in the vein of a classic artillery luger, while the initial Z08 he was trained with is modeled after the obvious P08 Luger. The difference between these weapons is basically only skin deep, thicker barrel and enlarged firing chamber and magazine to accommodate the larger 8mm rounds.**

 **Basically Dieter traded up for a more powerful, if more difficult to control variant of the pistol. After all the 8mm is more akin to a rifle magnum cartridge in size and width then a standard 9mm handgun cartridge but aside from the skin deep** **aesthetics I wanted his personal sidearm to be another representative of just what sort of man Dieter is. From his zeal from employing the latest and greatest, to his choice in weapon I wanted to reveal a bit of his character. Notably his value of power, overt and overwhelming power.**

 **Anyway enough with the info dump on weaponry relating to the story.**

 **For those unaware this story is set to be translated into Chinese, can you believe that?**

 **Who would have thought that this little story, with such a modest following would attract the interest of those would seek to ensure that even more people could potentially enjoy it? Certainly not me, but I must say I am grateful for the chance for my story to reach even more viewers and hopefully provide them a interesting little story.**

 **So if you are a fellow who reads Chinese better then English check out** **KamilleSu's translation of: The Soldier of Zeon, while I have not been given a definitive date of release, please look forward to it. I hopefully will be given news so I can try to relate some sort of timetable eventually but until then I can offer nothing save my utter shock at this happening once again.**

 **Its truly humbling.**

 **Honestly there is no other news I got that will top that truthfully. So I won't even try, instead I will merely end the AN right here and now.**

 **I hoped you all enjoyed this chapter in the story and of course.**

 **Till next time**

 **-Reborn Akatsuki**


	14. Operation: Black Light

**AN: Here we are the final chapter in the primary narrative of: The Soldier of Zeon. My first entry into UC Gundam nears its close and I am somewhat sad but not overly so because this story will have further expansion, a full blown sequel eventually and not to mention several more One Shots. Those that have enjoyed this little journey with me, I thank you all for every review, favorite and follow. I am glad people enjoyed what I wrote, at least a little bit.**

 **With nothing more to say I will simply get right to it, let this final chapter of Soldier of Zeon be something you all can take some satisfaction in reading.**

 **Disclaimer: I still do not own Gundam and my scheme for turning lead into gold backfired horribly and I am now no longer allowed within several shopping outlets**

 **A hero is someone who has given his or her life to something bigger than oneself.**

 **Joseph Campbell**

* * *

Military surplus, that was what their kit had been labeled as it was _sold off_ to Imago Trading, the paper trail leading to this attack if one dared to follow it long enough to reveal that the five rifles, copious amounts of ammunition and assorted explosives sent to Typhon's operation were all supposedly sold to private citizenry. All registered across Side Three and Six, and then purchased individually by Imago from where they rotted in a munitions cache until Black Light. It was just another level of diversion and distraction, the Federation would seek to blame this on Zeon, would know Zeon was responsible but proof of that fact would be impossible to uncover.

Even if this mission failed, even if they all died in this attempt...Zeon would not suffer a loss of standing, the secrets of this mission would die with them. Kycilia and her staff would know of course, but there would be nothing official in the records, there would be no mandate or record of orders issued. If this mission failed they would be disavowed, there would be no connection, Typhon would be erased from the records and it would become another lost page in history. They would undoubtedly be labeled as irregulars, rogue military personal, their connections to the Special Attack Force, and indeed the Zeon Military as a whole would be stretched as far as possible, even while they were lauded for their role in Loum a mere week prior, they would be tossed to the wolves without a second thought if this fucked up.

He knew that, and he didn't mind it. He would undoubtedly have done the same if he were Kycilia's position, all they could do, was ensure that this mission did not fail. That was by far the most effective method of ensuring that their legacy, their impact on history was not tossed aside like a soiled pair of underpants.

* * *

 **Pre Mission Briefing**

 **January 28th, 0079**

 **Side One, Military Quarter**

 **Shangri-La Public Transit Central Command, Terminal 1**

 **Nine Minutes Before Mission Start**

"Alright we covered this back in the regular briefing at the tenement, but I want this run done perfectly, we will only get one shot at it...no mistakes." Roland shifted around the harness containing his rifle. This was it, the final mission briefing, the final bit of preparation before the operation began and it was left up to each of their individual skills to see if this would succeed or fail. "Our first bit of resistance as we all know given we disembarked from this very terminal will be the front security desk, its usually manned just by one or two guards." Roland gestured roughly to the rear door of the transport.

"Past that there are two dedicated security stations within the primary lobby and its off shooting halls, we don't have any solid information on how many men are stationed within or what they will be armed with so take no chances." Drevis let out a mirthless chuckle and secured a single fragmentation grenade to his waist rigging for easy access. "After that we will be in the terminal itself beyond the lobby and waiting areas, it will be tight quarters and the confines will be ideal for ambushes, we have a general location of the primary control room." Roland rounded off, and not for the first time Dieter wished that they had managed to secure a map of the terminal if for no other reason then planning purposes, a general idea of where stairwells and elevators were could lead the entire team into bottlenecks and potential ambushes but there was nothing for it, they'd have to make do with memorization of the bits of the area they had encountered during their own time in the terminal.

"Drevis, Poulin and Emre, you will maintain control of the Terminal and any persons therewith still breathing, keep them cooperative if you can...any hostages we gain are just leverage to delay the inevitable Federal counterattack, the longer we have to prep the launch room the better." Roland concluded as he gave Emre a firm pat on the shoulder. "Once the terminal is secured and all the hostages pacified I want you to ascend the control tower, and see if you cannot set up an observation post to observe whatever reaction the local authorities or Federal military undertake, it should be clear by the time you arrive if me and Dieter do our jobs right...if not...clear it and maintain position, we will get into contact with once we have secured the launch room." It was a classic strategy, a callback to the ancient wars waged on Earth for century after century.

Claim the high ground and use it to dictate the battle. Hopefully Drevis and Poulin would be able to hold the terminal together long enough to ward off whatever counterattack the Federation would undoubtedly launch, for them to get their suits aboard the colony via the shuttle. It was a matter of time now, if they could propel their own offensive fast enough, secure the needed facilities quickly enough, they could outpace the enemy, but if they bogged down or stumbled...they were all dead.

"Got it." Emre confirmed as he slid his own rifle into place upon the harness and shouldered it, they had only a short distance to travel to the terminal, but all the same their plan was set, and was going to be put into action the moment they stepped outside the truck. There would be no do-overs for this assault, it would have to be done right the first time or it would fail, they couldn't afford to engage the enemy for long without the massive firepower and support offered by their mobile suits, once aboard there would be little that could be done to stop them, but until then...practically anything could.

"No fancy speeches this time, I'm afraid." Roland sighed as he stepped over to the door, his hand resting upon the handle to push it onward. "But you are all soldiers, all professionals...I know you can do this, do your homeland proud today boys." Roland offered as a final assurance, a final pledge of his belief in their victory. In the victory of Zeon over that of the Federation, and their own victory over whatever obstacles that lay before them here at Side One.

"Sieg Zeon." Was the unilateral reply. An utterance of belief, an utterance of conviction. A cry of victory. Victory to their homeland, victory to them, death to the Federation and death to all that opposed them. That mantra was the embodiment in the belief, not only in the superiority of Zeon, not only in the mandate and destined victory that awaited it, but of all those under its banner, their own victory was due to them, and it was time to claim it.

* * *

 **January 28th, 0079**

 **Side One, Military Quarter**

 **Shangri-La Public Transit Central Command, Terminal 1**

 **Main Lounge**

 **1000 Hours**

Drevis had opened fire the moment the automatic sliding doors had shuddered at their entrance. The bark of his assault rifle cut through the sounds of normal commuters and their mundane day to day activities. Roland had said nothing as the young Zeon aristocrat shouldered his rifle and took up a classic shooting stance before unloading upon the security desk that lay in front of the terminal proper and its assorted lounges and checkpoints. The young uniformed security officer who hadn't even been minding the door, and was rather focusing instead upon a miniature television that decorated his post was ripped asunder by the burst of twelve rounds that turned his torso into a meat pie. Fluid and gore flew upward in spurts as the bullets did their job and planted the would be obstacle against the edge of his desk, his face an abject message of pain and sudden terror at his unsuspecting demise.

The rattle of gunfire caused a chorus of shouts, cries and screams to erupt as the unsuspecting populace was for the first time in weeks exposed to the war once again. Stepping into the terminal, the team of Zeon special forces operatives moved with precision belying that this was indeed their first outing in such a mission, yet all the same the military training that had instilled their confidence and discipline kept them moving. Spying a figure actually moving towards them through the crowds ahead, he raised his rifle, finger clashed around the stock as he shouldered the heavy weapon and aimed down its dotted sight.

The figure froze, staring down the barrel of his rifle, yet all the same continued his advance mere seconds later, undoubtedly this wasn't some random civilian, no civie would ever have the balls to charge armed gunmen who had just blown away the security at the front desk. _'Backup or...?'_ Either local police, security or Federation, either way he would brook no interference, no distraction on this most crucial of the mission stages. There was no help for then he, he let loose with a barrage of fire, the heavy rounds plinking into the crowd as they retreated, people, screamed, bled and died as he continued to drain his magazine in an effort to slay the stubborn figure he could scarcely make out through the sheer mass of bodies, yet his assault began to show effect as the crowd thinned, or rather died under his onslaught and eventually the figure was struck as well, planted by a well aimed burst that caught him below the chin and punched a round clean through his throat, staining the air behind in a crimson mist.

He hadn't intended to kill noncombatants, yet all the same if the enemy was willing to use civilians as shields to protect their soldiers, he would shoot through them, there could be no compassion, no morality in war, it was the antithesis to the art and its greatest detraction. Marching forward, over the groaning, bleeding bodies and corpses of his victims, he kept his eye on the figure, though he occasionally lost sight of the body about the sheer mass of them, he came to the corpse and stopped, eyeing it he felt vindication.

The man was a uniformed security officer for the terminal, gun in hand, ready to be a hero, and yet all he had accomplished was getting numerous civilians injured or killed. Had he thought that going against the crowd would provide him with an adequate shield? Did he think that they wouldn't stoop to shooting through them? Fool. That thought resounded within his head and provided a stark contrast to just the mindset that came from living within Zeon and living within the Federation. Did they still not understand yet? Even after a month of war? Did they still not grasp the gap between their societies? Did they not understand the differences between their two conflicting practices of war?

This was why Zeon would win this war. Why it was destined to win this war.

It didn't matter what cover the Federation hid behind.

 **They would always still shoot.**

* * *

 **January 28th, 0079**

 **Side One, Military Quarter**

 **Shangri-La, Public Docking Transit tunnel 9**

 **1000 Hours**

Gunfire echoed throughout the narrow tunnels and corridors leading deeper into the complicated burrows of access tunnels and duct work. The sound of steel casings hitting the thick pavement below in a seeming never ending procession resounded throughout the halls. His rifle jerked and jolted with every pull of the trigger sending another wave of hot death to those too stupid to cease fighting, the slaughter that had begun in the terminal had spilled into the deeper recess of the complex. His senses hyper aware his flooded with adrenaline, this was how he choose to live, how he could only live now. Perhaps he had missed his calling in infantry if their progress thus far was anything to measure success by.

Crimson stained the floors as he and the Captain advanced, his rifle resounded with a final bark of death before falling silent amid the fury of the ongoing gun battle. His fingers sweating through the thick interweave of the gloves gripped the spent drum and ripped it free before casting it to the floor and replacing it with another. Pulling the slide back, he was rewarded with the satisfying _click_ of a round feeding into the chamber, a sound he could make out even amid the chaos. Raising his rifle and bracing it against his shoulder he let loose another series of rounds, the sporadic return fire was becoming less and less pronounced as he and the Captain advanced further into the private access tunnels that linked into the heart of the Terminal's flight control.

The handful of security and Federal soldiers that made up this resistance were under armed, making due with sidearms or whatever kit they may had stashed away in security stations, a far cry from the ready for war battle gear that had been issued to the Zeon forces. Roland recoiled half a step at the impact of yet another handgun round pelting into his chest region but merely regained footing half a heartbeat later and resumed firing. He had himself taken a few rounds since bursting into the terminal itself, and none had penetrated the thick armoring of the ballistic vest. This jury rigged body armor of kevlar, inserts and steel was holding up nicely, but these opponents were hardly armed to their peak, they were expected to respond to hijackers and other assorted criminal elements, not an armed surge of professional soldiers conducting a raid.

"Coming up on the main launch control." Dieter confirmed over the roar of the gunfire as he shouldered his rifle and sent another dozen rounds cracking down the tunnel, causing concrete and floor tile to shatter when impacted, his bursts were becoming less accurate as he held the trigger down longer, his armored shoulder ached from the fury of his rifle striking repeatedly from the recoil against it.

"You head to the hangar proper, I will secure the control room and sent the frequency off to the fleet, we need to do this fast." Roland command as he pushed ahead of the younger man, his rifle already poised to deliver death to any Feddie stupid enough to break from cover. Their eyes met through the balaclava and he gave a brief nod to the Captain before he pushed ahead, the fire from from down the access corridor had all but stopped but that meant that the Federation was liking falling back to more defensible positions or coordinating with their forces to stage an offensive to push them back, either way they had to hurry.

His rifle let out another crack of fire as his moved, his stance was hardly ideal for accuracy but his intent was more to close the distance then it was hold back and pick off these nuances one by one. He felt winded after another round him in the collarbone, staggering back under the assault, as smoke wafted from his chest he raised the rifle upward to his shoulder and let loose. Dozens of rounds escaped the barrel as he held down the trigger, just sweeping the rifle back and forth, screams of pain and cries of agony were left his wake as he steadied himself and once more began moving leaving behind yet more bodies in his wake. This was the difference between their strength, between their art of war. His legs pumping as hard as they could despite the heavy armor that coated his body, his body burning with exertion and effort as he made his final descent into the long rectangular hangar block, pushing aside the final set of double doors that barred his way he was met with the hangar itself. The bay was currently empty but just from its sheer size, no doubt it could accommodate nearly a full Musai, the shuttle would have no issue landing in such a space.

Glancing down to his wrist he noted the time, and hoped that Roland had as much success claiming the control tower as he did reaching the hangar. He noted however with some grim satisfaction moments later that the bay doors were indeed opening, luckily due to the chamber being internally pressurized and having its own inertia dampeners it was capable of maintaining atmosphere even with an exposed portal to the vacuum. He heard the clack of of an internal intercom and his eyes scanned the room, above the normal sound of alarm klaxons and the standard emergency response messages he could barely make out Roland's voice. "Message away, shuttle inbound, expected ETA...40 minutes." Longer then he would have liked to hold the hangar by his lonesome but he would make do, propping himself against the hermetically sealed double doors he checked his rifle before popping free the drum magazine, he knew it only had a handful of rounds left within it anyway, he had hardly been concerned with conserving ammunition after all.

Replacing it with one of the 30 round stick magazines took him all of a few seconds, but it did give him so comfort, he still did possess a sizable stockpile of munitions, so hopefully he could hold out for the needed hour for the shuttle to arrive on point, no doubt Roland was needed in the control room to direct docking arrangements and keep in contact with the fleet. They were so close, all they needed was for that shuttle to arrive with their mobile suits, and then that base was as good as destroyed, it and its research.

* * *

 **January** **28th, 0079**

 **Side One, Public Transit Terminal**

 **Shangri-La, Primary Docking Array**

 **1100 Hours**

As the tank rose upward from the lower access lift of the hangars, its guns were already primed, loaded and ready to be aimed for destruction of whatever its crew deemed an enemy of the Federation.

The Komusai exploded outward blanketing the entire bay in thick chemical smoke and fire as debris rained down in the artificial gravity. A single volley of the dual 150mm armor piercing shells had rended the transport space craft into a cloud of rubble and wreckage. The engines had erupted into a brilliant firestorm as their liquid fuel caught fire and ignited causing the surrounding deck of the bay to come slick in flame and flammable liquids that smoldered in the intense heat. Yet apart from the cackling of flaming and the sound of steel crashing against the bulkhead the docking array was silent.

To the Federation soldiers within the single Type-61 Main Battle Tank as the smoke drifted and the automatic fire systems engaged and began to shower the wreckage to quench the flame, the danger was over, the threat had passed, and while some terrorist stragglers continued to put up a futile resistance on the exterior of the terminal, they would soon be dealt with as well. With the Zeon shuttle out of commission, there would be no escape for those who dared to unleash an attack on the very heart of the Federation within space, no mercy or safe haven with those with the gall enough to strike at the oldest colony built by the Earth Federation.

To armored warfare veteran Federal officer Captain Lyle Holdon as he pushed the hatch out from the tank and pulled himself through it to the thick armored deck of the armored vehicle he eyed the wreckage with grim resolve. They had stopped the madmen who had attempted flee from their massacre but the cost had been far too high, the blood that ran through the terminal all lay upon their response or lack there of in this case. The local police had been woefully under equipped to engage to his eye trained soldiers, no doubt while the official line would be disputed and clouded by diplomacy, he knew what this was.

An attack by Zeon on the Federation, on its people...in the middle of the prelude to peace negotiations. But Zeon's betrayal was the least of his concerns, the wounded and dead needed tending to, the damage needed to be repaired once some semblance of normalcy and order was brought to the situation then they could assign fault and blame. Despite the engulfing smoke and chemical fires that raged he still felt the need to stare at the wreckage of hopefully the end of this tale of treachery. Perhaps that was why he noticed it, despite the thickness of the clouds that hung in the air, despite the density of the fire and the raging inferno that the interior of the hangar had become he noticed it. The shifting of debris, the sound of steel grinding and crumbling, the sudden movement of the air.

The sound of servos activating and machinery straining as its elevators and lifts whirled to life. The crack of electronic systems coming online, intakes expelling fumes. Despite never having encountered the monstrosity that stirred within the wreckage, in his mind he knew what lurked away hidden in the smoke. Eyes widening he could only continue to stare in abject horror as a single crimson camera flashed into existence. That pulsing orb of light, that... _eye_ stared back at him through the smoke.

He felt the breath leave his lungs, his eyes already watering from the heat and smoke squinted in disbelief.

 _'A...a mobile suit? Here?!_ ' Atop his tank he felt as if he was a ant being glared downward at by an ancient unforgiving God.

As the smoke parted across its pitted and charred chassis, as yet more and more of this hulking war machine cleared the the inferno that had become of the shuttle he felt abject horror stir within him. Not for his own life, not for the lives of his men but for the colony that lay just behind them. As the black machine continued its advance, he noted its weaponry, having read the briefing files on this machines he knew that the machine gun it bore could easily penetrate warship battle plate, his own tank wouldn't stand up to any sort of firepower that could damage the Federal Navy. Yet from those same reports he knew that these machines could be killed, could be defeated, they were not invincible.

Clambering back down into the hatch he was met by the glazed horror in his fellow soldiers stares as they gaped at the monitors within the tank as the mobile suit halted. Its massive hand held machine gun angling itself downward. The sheer firepower offered to the weapon by that weapon rendered their options limited to just one course of action. They wouldn't likely survive a single impact, their tank would be shredded from one hit. Yet despite that, he knew in his heart that they couldn't allow this weapon or the man within it back into the colony. They had millions of lives to protect within.

They were all that stood between this butcher and his weapon and the people of Shangri-La.

Gripping the gunner's shoulder in a iron tight grip, he forced the man's head to turn to meet his gaze.

"Prepare to fire." He wheezed issuing what knew could very well be his last order. Yet despite their fear, despite the presence of this Zeon weapon of destruction...his men still followed the command. Gratitude seeped from within him as he internally praised the commitment of his men to follow his command, as they ran through the process of reloading the duel cannons of their tank and updating the firing trajectory, the mighty 150mm guns raised upward as far as they could manage. Seconds passed as if they were ages as the breach was cleared of the spent shells they had lobbed at the shuttle and fresh ammunition was loaded, the chime of the computer locking on to the center mass of the abomination of metal and electronics before them caused him to let out a short breath.

 _'Fire, fire already...that bastard is just toying with us now...'_ Surely whatever onboard suite that machine had given the pilot a lock on them already, surely he could kill them all at his leisure but...his taunting if that was what this indeed was, was about cost him his life.

"Fire..." He whispered hoarsely, soot and smoke coating his lungs.

The tank shuddered as its guns fire, rocking it back with recoil in the simulated gravity of the colony cylinder.

* * *

 **Side One, Public Transit Terminal**

 **Shangri-La, Primary Docking Array**

 **MS-06C Zaku II**

 **1100 Hours**

As the ship burned around him and he was battered around the interior of his cockpit just as his machine was coming online he was consumed by a singular emotion. This emotion outdid all of its fellows, it supplanted his concerns for his fellow team members still battling against the Federal ground forces, it quashed his concerns for his Captain in the control tower...it even buried his mission within his mind. Rage drove him: **How dare they** , how dare these excuses for human beings stand against him. He had faced battle, he had killed opponents either through his own hand or that of his mobile suit and yet here and now none of that mattered, all of his training fell by the wayside.

He was supposed to approach combat tactically, to supplant instinct with strategy, to suppress the human nature within him and act the part of a unfeeling soldier, a killer of his nation's enemies. All of that crumbled to dust within him, the flames of his rage burned hotter then all the scorching fuel that littered the hangar. These people sought to deny him his victory, to come have come this far, to have actually achieved the first most critical stage of their mission, only for these damnable Feddies to try to interfere.

He would fucking erase the vermin that had the audacity even attempt to stop him now. Ripping the sweat stained and torn balaclava from his face he glared at the tank through the monitors, his fingers working to bring systems online and engage hydraulics. Servos came to life as his primary OS completed its boot sequence, he gave a short glance to the operational status of his power plant and it caused his face to twist into a fearsome grin. He had a little over nine hours if he went all out and even longer if he held back, and didn't go crazy with posturing and outmaneuvering opponents. Still even amid his confidence and encompassing rage he recognized the threat of that tank's main cannons...his words to Yuuka came back to him. He would not be lulled into a false sense of security, while undoubtedly his mobile suit could shrug off limited amounts of its fire, direct hits would be...problematic.

Triggering the the safeties to disengage he began the process of keying up the targeting system, this was difficult due to the fact the onboard systems were designed to engage dedicated space craft, warships and the assorted threats that the Zaku was going to be posed against, having to reconfigure the entire system to operate on ground targets was just another part of the hassle, and one he admittedly hadn't expected but the annoyance merely fueled his rage. His fingers rapped and pecked at the keys as they altered trajectories and created firing solutions.

His machine gun barked out fire as 120mm shells flew towards the tank intent obliterating it and those within it, yet this was of course when the tank itself fired, his eyes darkened as he saw the guns spit their deadly payload towards his mobile suit. Falling back more on training and instinct then anything else his hands veered from their control sticks as his fingers flicked away toggles, it was likely too late to evade the two round burst of the 150mm cannons yet all the same he wouldn't make this easy. Just as his own rounds tore up the flight deck leading towards the tank before slamming into the main body of the craft ripping it asunder, his own Zaku nimbly stepped back once to the left, he noted the trails of smoke and heat as the rounds narrowly avoided striking at his precious Zaku II. All this perhaps taking as much time as ten seconds, had left the crew of that tank undoubtedly dead as the wreckage burned from fires caused fuel leaks and the impact of his armor piercing rounds as the tank earnestly burst into flames.

Keying up the communication suite and bringing the intercom online he transmitted out to the hangar. "Captain hangar is secured, fire suppression should be capable of extinguish the fires soon so you should be able of claiming your own suit." He stated grimly as his eyes once more found the image of the wreckage of the shuttle, the crew were undoubtedly dead but hopefully Roland's machine had suffered limited to no damage during the course of the explosion like his own...occasionally he forgot that the Zaku was armored literally by the ton...making it impervious to all but the most lethal of harms. None the less it was time to begin the mission proper, they just needed the Captain to claim his as well and they could begin. "I will hold position until you arrive to claim your suit." He dictated his course of action, while one mobile suit in the hands of a capable pilot put the fighting strength of the Zeon forces well above anything it could be expected to face here on Side One, two would be doubly effective and they needed all the advantages they could claim to begin with.

This mission had gone relatively well so far, they had arrived at the Spaceport without incident, seized the terminal, and had allowed the shuttle to dock before they became aware of the extent of the Federation's paranoia...to have a Type-61 stationed at a civil Spaceport? Just what the hell was wrong with the Federation? Admittedly the native spaceports back in Side Three were likewise under military protection but that was besides the point, they had for a decade expected a armed attempt by the Federation to lay war and insurrection upon them.

* * *

 **January 28th, 0079**

 **Side One, Agricultural Bunch Production Plant 19**

 **Shangri-La, Field 1**

 **MS-06C Zaku II**

 **1300 Hours**

"Dieter! Head's up! We have incoming on six!" Roland's stiff command roused him his study of the instruments that were measuring the distance between Typhon's current position and the supposed main Federal research facilities they had to destroy. A brief glance however to the secondary camera's confirmed what Roland had said, at their back coming in as fast as their rotors could carry them was a armored gunship squadron. He eyed the assembly of five craft with mild irritation, the entire point of cutting through agri production was to throw off pursuing forces. That apparently hadn't lasted long until their next discovery though. "Stand and fight or disengage?" He grumbled through the comm-line as his machine continued to its advance, plowing through fields and overturning farming equipment. Dust and dirt were kicked up with every ponderous step as their line of Zaku II halted, the commandeered transport van that Drevis had the _brilliant_ notion to seize trailed along lazily after them, while the gunships would be only a minor threat to both Roland and himself within their mobile suits...they could prove problematic to the rest of the time if they were allowed to get into firing range.

Honestly Drevis just made him think that the boy was insane upon occasion, he would just randomly decide to steal an armored personal carrier from the Federation merely to use it as a means of transportation within the colony? When they had a perfectly suitable transport truck just across the street? Shaking his head in outright confusion he focused his mind on the task at hand, either engaging the enemy at present or retreating and attempting to outpace whatever force the Federation was undoubtedly prepping to secure the colony and ensure that this raid ended with their deaths.

"Keep moving, we have to make it back into the colony proper on the other end, no delays!" Roland commanded as his own Zaku continued to trek through the fields. With his eyes on his monitors, witnessing the approach of the enemy, he let out a weary sigh as the gunships continued to pursue them, though at Roland's order he did not turn to fire. They'd keep advancing until these or future Federation reinforcements proved overly troublesome, they were not here to kill every backward soldier of the Federation in this raid, they were here to destroy research that worried Zeon, to prevent the Federation from gaining potential advantage, a much more pressing concern then a handful of soldiers though he admitted some grim satisfaction in the act of thinning the enemies ranks.

That was normal though? Every individual expressed themselves in their duty to Zeon be it in construction of the very mobile suits he piloted, in the very guns he used to defend his homeland, in the creation of the great colonies themselves. Every citizen of Zeon found purpose in what they did to make the nation excel, why wouldn't he a warrior relish in besting its enemies? In ending their lives? It was to his eye the only rational mindset for a soldier of Zeon.

As the enemy continued their approach and as they continued their trek, it became something of a race. If they crossed the field first and made it into the other half of the colony before the Federation could stop them, they could prep their offensive before any Federal counterattack, yet by the same measure if they were delayed no doubt the Federation would without hesitation unleash the full scope of their arsenal in an attempt to stop them.

* * *

 **January 27th, 0079**

 **Side One, Military District**

 **Shangri-La, Federal Munitions Depot**

 **2200 Hours**

He glared in the dim lighting of the warehouse as he stifled a curse as he bumped his booted foot into one of the steel girders that made up the assembly of racks, shelving and assorted benches that stored everything from tank ammunition to pistol bullets. Pain radiated outward from the appendage but apart from his scowl deepening he gave no indicator he felt it. His fingers trailed on the butt of his pistol hidden away as it was by the thick material of his coveralls, they had perhaps a handful of minutes before the next patrol passed through the interior armory and they needed to be well on their way by that point. Yet Drevis and Roland continued to pore over manifests and documents stored within the interior office of the building, the snap and click of portable torches was the only thing audible save his own breathing as they skimmed through dozens of pages.

All they needed was a single reference, a lead of some sort, if they couldn't narrow down the location anymore then it was indeed located upon the colony itself, what then? Would they be given clearance to obliterate the first colony constructed under Federal directive? To purge this colony would be a stab at the heart of the Federation, and that was something he would approve of yet, all the same...millions of people would die, by their own inaction and unwillingness to stand for what was just, right and noble of course, but all the same the population of the colony would not be spared the destruction wreaked upon it by a strike aimed at utterly and completely obliterating it.

Roland however was not in favor of that option, to him a pin pointed and surgical strike would serve them and Zeon better, something deniable, something that while the Federation may acknowledge occurred, would never generate as many questions and concerns as the destruction of a colony within Side One. He could give that method consideration given the underlying circumstance of their very being here of course, they were here to strike a blow to the Federation while it prepared to conduct peace negotiations, to destroy their pitiful hopes for victory in the war. Mass death he supposed would only cement their resolve to fight this war futility until its conclusion and Zeon still had to recover from the damage inflicted upon it from the early weeks of the conflict.

"Large shipment of Helium-3 to this compound, along with reactor stabilizers and coolant. It gets regularly weekly deliveries of the stuff...can't find any reference on whatever project it is under..." Drevis trailed off as the Captain approached whatever grouping of documents the young aristocrat had been going over prior to this discovery.

"Got it. Naval Warfare and Research Department 8, stationed within the military quarter at..." As Drevis led off on the coordinates of the base, He knew within his heart this was the beginning of the end for this mission. Now they'd merely have to await the delivery of their means of destruction and this mission, along with the base that held this secretive research would end. The individual science teams may be valuable targets of opportunity, but even if they escaped the destruction they were about to unleash it would be of little consequence.

"We have our target then." The Captain confirmed as he gave a brief nod to Drevis he began stuffing manifests and other documents back into place.

"We hit it tomorrow assuming the last bit of our gear gets in, we have to do it before the meeting down on Earth. Our last communication with Kycilia confirmed that she will be moving from Granada down to Earth along with the rest of the Royal Family to meet with Federal Officials on the 31st as reported...so we either do it now when she can guarantee us reinforcements or...we take our chances by moving up our strike date." The three assembled men all shared a look before nodding in confirmation.

As one of two senior officers within the team Dieter knew his input would at least have a minor impact on their immediate course of action. "I say we do it, assuming we get what we need. The sooner this is done the better, I want to be off this fucking colony." There was just something...wrong about this place, wrong about this society, wrong about this civilization, the sooner mankind was free of it, and its corrupting influence...the better.

"I'll need to confer with Emre once we get back outside the perimeter but I'll take your support under advisement." Roland stated as he pushed past his two subordinates who were still pushing documents back into place, they had gotten lucky all things considered, if the bookkeeping had been worse...He doubted they would have found anything amiss, but this quartermaster had done their job excellently, and because of that, they would now precede to the meat of Black Light.

 _This colony or at the very least its secrets would be destroyed._

* * *

 **January 28th, 0079**

 **Side One, Military Quarter**

 **Shangri-La, Central Plaza**

 **MS-06C Zaku II**

 **1600 Hours**

"Head's up, another incoming wave! At 12!" Emre warned them, from his own perch in the observation tower, he knew his squad mate had a good grasp of the situation overlooking the entire colony but all the same, how long could he hold the position? Even now, even dozens of square miles away, even amid the sounds of carnage and battle the ever present noises of the Federation attempting to breach the thick outlying doors of the command center could be heard. Of course the man had known that going into this, that if they could not make it back to the spaceport in time, he would be overran, but there was nothing else for it, with most of their sensors and radar systems useless aboard the colony they needed direction, they needed someone to keep a watch on them.

What better place to do it from the very terminal then their mobile suits had come into the colony? _'Not all just mine and the Captain'_ s.' he corrected internally. If they had been lucky enough to retrieve the unit's entire deployment of Zaku then undoubtedly this situation would be intensely easier, but they would just have to make do.

A shell wheezed back his main camera bringing him back to the present as he raised his machine gun upward, his targeting system already establishing a lock on the makeshift trajectory he had cobbled together for tanks. If its prior work was anything to go by it wasn't perfect but it would do, and it was better then manually aiming every time he went to take a shot.

His machine gun rattled off a quick burst of shells, the casings plummeting downward to the streets below as his machine shifted to take cover behind one of the few office towers within the area that could cover the entirety of his machine. The column of main battle tanks continued to advance, their own duel cannoned fire striking into the vacant tower with the force its 150mm guns. Roland's Zaku across the plaza from him similarly was dealing with the encroaching tank formation, letting off sporadic volleys whenever it wasn't at risk of taking a shell into the cockpit or chassis. Neither of them wanted to see if the armor lived up to the protective capabilities it was theoretically supposed to, vulcan rounds pelted into the concrete and steel as the machine gun equipped tanks raked fire across the buildings, no doubt in an effort to prompt to him to return fire.

Rubble and debris rained down from multiple impact points on the tower as it swayed perilously in the artificial breeze of the colony, all the same the tanks continued to bombard their position even as their team worked to activate the main gate into the complex proper. "Poulin do you have a time yet?" Roland shouted over the sounds of battle into the comm-line as his machine broke from cover sprinting across the debris scattered plaza before halting and returning fire, the tracer rounds from his machine gun burned up the street in a swath of destruction before meeting the front line of the tanks. He had his own machine break from cover even as the tower began its downward descent to the street below, his machine gun barked fire and traded rounds with the Federal cannons. 150mm shells flew past his suit, striking into the surrounding area with explosive send offs to their existence.

Tanks erupted as their bodies were pierced by the heavy rounds eating into them, smoke and flame were expelled in violent gouts as the forward line were decimated by the automatic cannons that were their duel 120mms firing upon them. The devastation continued on the enemy until Roland's gun went silent only for his to take up the slack and continue to fire death upon the enemy. Tank after tank in the lineup were simply reduced to flaming hulks after a single attempt, finally his volley cut out as his finger left the trigger. The stark wave of destruction before their Zaku blanketed his monitors and cameras in flame, of the entire column, not a single tank out of the dozen that made it up remained function. Smoke trailed from dozens of fires that burnt along the roadside, at the very least this last ditch attempt had blocked the primary roads leading to the base, they might buy a little time as the Federation forces moved wreckage if nothing else. His comm-line's light flashing urgently within the lit interior of the cockpit's bank of monitor's, cameras and readout board.

Flicking the switch he was immediately assailed by Poulin's status update to the Captain.

"Five minutes! We need to get the lift working or we will never be able to get into the base proper!" Poulin screamed over the sounds of gunfire as he and Drevis undoubtedly worked to push further and further into the complex. This mission was devolving into the nightmare he had feared, they had little to no information on the base itself save that the research, labs and facilities that they needed to destroy were housed on the lower level but their structuring and even layout were a mystery, could their mobile suits even fit into those access tunnels? Were they large enough to accommodate them? They could only hope...

"Christ this is getting grim." He heard Roland chuckle as he tossed the spent drum of his Zaku's 120mm away and replaced it with a fresh magazine, the emptied drum fell absently to the plaza below striking it fiercely and causing a casade of cracks and rubble to fountain upward, blanketing the waist of their Zaku in dust. However amid this reload his own suit stood absent its mono eye focusing on his commander's suit. If his camera spied his compatriot's ammunition rigging on the rear of the suit accurately, his last. He glanced at his own munition readouts and was less then enthused, he was down to just 47 rounds in the current magazine and just a 100 more in his final reserve. The last thing he wanted was to be forced to close the distance to melee a tank.

"We have to make this quick, who knows how long before they prep another wave of tanks or gunships..." He let out hoarsely through a cough, his chest still ached from a few of the rounds that had failed to penetrate his vest, but no doubt if he gave it serious attention he'd have a cracked or fractured rib, but there was no time to focus on his own medical concerns, they had to penetrate this base and do it now. "Captain can you keep watch? I want to get out of this gear." He questioned through the commline, awaiting the Captain's response. It came shortly and with the sincerity that only another military man could give. "Yeah, make it quick I want to get out of this crap too." Roland chuckled once more. Pushing himself to stand within the small bubble of his cockpit, his fingers traced down the armored and scarred plate and kevlar of his body armor, finding a solid grip he began pulling the rigging free. Within the confines of this cockpit however, it was a time consuming ordeal, what would have taken perhaps a few minutes at most became a chore. Pulling the overlaying vest free, along with the various munition and assorted lines for his rifle he merely tossed them to the floor of the Zaku, once again wishing he had the cockpit modified if for nothing else then to hold a storage compartment.

Revealing his sweated through undershirt after the final bit of chest armor was removed was perhaps the most satisfying part of the entire thing, for the first time in literal hours he could freely move limbs once more, piloting while in that hardsuit had been a needed thing but it had restricted his reaction time immensely, unlike a normal suit that armor had been designed to provide adequate movement for battlefields and nothing more. It didn't take into account the full range of motion and action needed to pilot one of these 17 meter high machines.

Giving a glance at the standard issue green drab normal suit along with its accompanying helmet that rested on the side console of the cockpit, he was once again thankful he had bothered to actually take suit once aboard the shuttle in his brief time onboard before its destruction at the massive cannons of that tank.

Yet of course whenever he actually felt confident about his own decisions fate had to intervene to quash any such arrogance...not that it stopped him from having it, but it did make him bear pause upon occasion.

This was one of those occasions.

* * *

His commline blinked in its rapid pulsating signalling that he had an incoming message, keying into it, he was met with the last thing he had expected. An apology.

"I'm sorry guys." He heard his fellow Lieutenant begin in the background of the message he could make the continued bashing in of reinforced door though this time the sound was much more pronounced, the Federation was nearly through. In the aftermath of the battle he had initially forgotten that their teammate was acting the part of the spotter back at the spaceport due to Roland's request but now he was reminded all the more potently. He heard the sound of shuffling footsteps as Emre undoubtedly took up a more defensive position. "I can see that you have made it to the exterior of the base, and due to your last communication, are in the process of securing a route into it...I wish you luck and-" Emre was cut off by a pained grunt as an explosion shook the receiver and the screech it caused from the radio transmission nearly caused his ears to bleed.

All the same though, he continued listening, even as he prepped the hatch for his Zaku to open outward, he could easily use the main camera or any of the frontal facing secondaries to witness what he had a sick feeling in his guts was about to occur but something within him forced to him to watch it with his own eyes, to etch now and forever into his memories. Gunfire raged through the radio as the battle began, muzzle flashes visible across the colony from observation tower at the spaceport dominated its darkened interior. Gasps of pain and death rang about like bells until once more Emre spoke.

" _Please...tell my family I died bravely._ " He heard the solemn pledged uttered before a firestorm erupted outward from the tower. Blasts that cleared the windows clean from their frames, flames hot enough to melt steel, pressure strong enough to fling bits of debris and wreckage miles from the epicenter as the explosion dominated his view of the tower for second after second.

There was no chance of survival from something like that, whether the Federation had tossed in a brick of high explosives to clear Emre out or he had detonated a brick he had taken from their stash all on his own to prevent capture...Either the result was the same. The man was dead, the affable family man, the annoying obsessive sniper, perhaps the greatest shot he had witnessed in all his years of military service.

 _Gone. Dead. Done._

"... **Fuck**." He muttered breathlessly as his eyes scanned the smoke and flame descending from the control tower, the raging inferno it had become had engulfed entire portions of the lower floors and undoubtedly would continue to spread until fire suppression systems came online to combat it, which should occur soon. Yet as fire and glass rained down to the streets below, his eyes never left the apex of the tower, the circular chamber where his teammate had found the end of his life at the hands of the Federation.

 _Lieutenant Francis Emre was the first of Tyhpon to fall during Black Light._

* * *

 **Federal Research Laboratories**

 **Shangri-La Division of Naval Warfare and Research**

 **Side One, Colony One, Shangri La**

 **1700**

The final obstacle were a pair of half panicked inexperienced soldiers who had scarcely been given chance to raise their rifles before Roland swiftly executed them both with a precise burst from his own rifle, each coating both men in their own blood as their chests just exploded outward from the trauma of the high caliber rounds entering into their unarmored bodies, their BDU's stained with their own life blood as they choked and gagged on their own gore. Stepping past the soon to be corpses, led them to what they had been seeking this entire mission, all of what had led to this.

All that remained before preventing access was a thickened bulkhead door. "This is it." Roland confirmed as he read off the assigned number of the door: _Division of Naval Warfare and Research Laboratory 89A/111._ This was where all those components and needed agents for fusion reactors had been shipped, this was where all the paper trails had led them back to, this was where the invoices Kycilia's spies had claimed had undoubtedly come from.

At last they could be done with this mission...

It turned out to be _unlocked_ due to the lockdown to enable lab and staff crews to evacuate presumably...At least the Federation was somewhat safety conscious when it came to their high value personages...All the same though, those measures would cost them dearly.

Sliding the thick bulkhead inward his boots clacked onto metal grate as he stepped into the lab, in the chaos of the battle above no doubt evacuation had been...ineffective to say the least. Given that they had encountered no scientists in the push towards the labs, they were likely huddling in a broom closet somewhere if not in the deepest bunker the Feddies had on base. Yet it was clear...they had just missed them. Indeed the interior labs showed all the signs of lived in work spaces, coffee still brewed in stations along the wall, terminals still hummed draining power to project their secretive research on their screens. However that was not what caught his eye, stepping into the large circular chamber, his eyes were drawn to what dominated it, within the workshop, several components of what undoubtedly had been Zaku were strewn about, servos and electric motors that generated the needed power to move the suit and its massive limbs forward as a war machine.

"Bastards were running tests on Zeon machines?!" Poulin hissed in outrage. It seemed they had captured a few mobile suits in the various battles that raged across the Sides the since the war began, perhaps badly damaged machines or even those that were operated by pilots that had surrendered but apart from a scarce splattering of parts, and components were where the multi-ton war machines?

"Seems that way." Drevis commented on as he tossed the duffel he had been carrying to the floor and started removing the required explosives to hopefully destroy this lab and whatever secrets it may have uncovered. Brick after brick of composite explosive were removed, their original hope of bringing in mobile suits to destroy the interior of the base being dashed, they were forced to again make due and hope that the limited amount of explosives they still had left would be enough to at the very least wipe out this room.

The team spread across the room, scanning it to ensure that the fleeing Federals and their researchers had left no gifts for their arrival, but there were no traps, there were no alarms sounding, no resounding klaxons signaling the next incoming wave of Feddie cannon fodder. They had done it, they had punched clean through the stouch defense that the Federation protected the base with, secured their entry point, and while prospects for exfiltration were limited from this position, they had few minutes to come up with a plan, now however should be focused upon securing this room, and uncovering whatever secrets the Federation had wished to guard, even at the expense of hundreds of lives.

From the sheer assorted of parts littered across the vast chamber, it was clear that the Federation had captured at the very least upwards of five Zaku, and were in the process of reverse engineering or studying as much of their interior components, computing systems, and onboard power sources as possible. They would regret them making it to this room, Kycilia's worries seemed to bear a striking resemblance to the reality, perhaps had this mission uncovered nothing, the loss of life would have been regrettable, to the Federation but the ultimate price to their military endeavors would have been limited but...that clearly wasn't the case.

The Federation was up to something here, that was undoubtedly the truth. He could guess the ultimate goal of any such research involving understanding of just how mobile suit operation was achieved, indeed in the days after the defection of perhaps the single greatest mind of their era, the father of an entire branch of physics Trenov Minovsky. He had worried about such things, this man was privy to their most guarded military secrets, the key to the ultra compact fusion reactor, and while the Federation had undoubtedly began producing its own variants, but this was nearly a decade back in the early days of 0070. What had come of that research? Yes under his guidance, they had installed particle weaponry upon their warships, powered them through the same methods as Zeon, yet the mobile suits did not surface...

Throughout this entire conflict he had been pitted against the Federation, fought their warships and fighter craft, he had found skill among some of the enemy yet apart from the sheer bulk of their numbers the threat was minute. However if the Federation was in the process of beginning a dedicated program with the end result being mobile weapons...that simply couldn't be allowed to exist, their sole edge in this fight thus far was the mobile suits at Zeon's disposal. He was drawn away from this thoughts however was Drevis approached a tarped display in the far corner of the room. Watching as the young Zeon aristocrat ripped the shielding away, his stopped dead in place. Before them lay perhaps the most critical piece of tech on any given Zaku...the reactor. Ten of the assorted power sources hummed lightly in the background, this was ridiculous, where they already at the implementation stage? Where they already prototyping? What did this mean?

Scowling, he let out a held breath and shook his head to regain focus, this was ultimately irrelevant, they needed a way to destroy all of this, the research, materials, if they were lucky all the backups and severs. His eyes scanned the various reactor's safely housed behind several sheets of thick transparent safety glass and thermal polymers, within this very room they had access to the arsenal that could level the base if just properly prepared. Reactor breaches would result in sizable explosions of radiation and outward force, but a single one while enough to destroy the room, if not several floors of the compound likely wouldn't be enough to obliterate the entire base...perhaps ten would.

It could also potentially crack the entire colony in half if more force then he believed these particular reactors could generate was released, obviously but that was no great concern, the wider the swath of destruction the better. He'd need to confirm the active amounts of energy being generated, and their coolant requirements merely to begin to gauge potential destructive potential, radiation would be a minor concern, but he was more overly wondering of their outright destructive force. He knew that Roland had initially been against outright destruction of the colony and he had given his assent to that course, but now...they were in place to complete the objective and send a far more gratifying message to the Federation. To the people of the Federation, of Side One, of all those who lived here aboard this cylinder itself... as for the population of the colony. He didn't care, he didn't even begin to care. To hell with this colony, to hell with the Federation and to hell with the bastards who thought it was alright to deny an admittedly annoying man the chance to his loved ones again...

If not for the first time in a long time, Dieter paused for a moment and pondered if there truly was an afterlife, if for no other's sake then the family man that had been his teammate...he hoped one awaited him, he could hope for that much, pray for that much. He knew he was doomed to hell for his own deeds, and earnestly had stopped caring weeks prior, this was simply had life had to be lived in such a time but for Emre...he hoped that man received better in his own final judgement. "I doubt I shall see you in _Valhalla_ brother..." That ancient myth of a warriors paradise, where the greatest soldiers of the ancient Norsemen warred, drank and bedded lusty angelic women for eternity had admittedly appealed to him as a final resting place, near as soon as he had learned of it during the mandatory schooling dealing with the ancient cultures of Earth, the aristocratic strata of Zeon in particular seemed to be obsessive with such things in particular.

Pushing past Poulin whom was busy scanning over various manifests and terminals, to confirm that this lab was indeed the one they had come to destroy, his hand stopped just a precious few centimeters from the material of the window. While M particle radiation was mostly harmless, except in extreme doses, the various other outputs of radiation including gamma that would erupt forth from a breach would certainly not be unhealthy to endure so a direct breach wouldn't serve their purposes unless if it came down to either dying to accomplish the mission or failing it. "Poulin, do you think the yield these reactors breaching would result in the destruction of this...base?" He questioned aloud as he eyed the collection once more earnestly, mind wandering the possibilities, of the power displayed here.

Poulin raised his masked face upward from the bank of terminals as he squinted at the collection of power sources before letting out a morose chuckle. Clearly his own teammates were shocked by the brutality and finality of Emre's end...not that he could blame them, even he who had lost more then his fair share of squad mates over the course of this month long conflict, had come to the realization that he met his end with far more carnage then he would have preferred. "Kill them with our own _captured_ reactors?" Poulin shook his head gingerly for a moment before pulling free his balaclava with a effortless tug and tossing it to the ground, the sweat stained material struck the steel grate with a wet impact, attesting to how the larger man had sweated through it. "Your one twisted bastard Dieter." Poulin cackled like a stereotypical mad scientist as he approached the bank of monitors linked to the assorted reactors, measuring their coolant dispensing and temperatures and other assorted factors that were required to keep them operational.

"Whatever we do, we need to do it quick, whatever armed response the Federation is going to send our way will be arriving promptly." Roland grimaced as he rubbed at his wounded shoulder once again, blood staining through the skintight material of the normal suit. The Federal blue being stained by the crimson red of a Zeon soldier...it was almost ironic. His spent rifle abandoned on the workbench he eyed the same sliding bulkhead that they had breached to arrive in this laboratory. "What sort of experiments are they conducting here anyway?" Roland wondered seemingly aloud as drew his sidearm and leveled the handgun at the door frame.

Poulin craned his head back from the terminal's he was busying himself with just long enough to give them all the answer they had been dreading. **"Its mobile suit research."**

* * *

"Its still rudimentary mind you, all theory and concept testing but..." Dieter had heard enough and apparently had Roland as well given that their Captain let out a wearied sigh before nodding his assent to whatever scheme that Poulin and his other Lieutenant had come up with. "Start prepping the reactors for meltdown, try to give us at least a little time before they overload if you could would you?" Roland grimaced as he wiped at his brow, handgun still leveled at the doorway which they expected to be flung open by Federal reinforcements any moment now.

Poulin's skillful usage of the terminal, which undoubtedly translated to mobile suit operation left the entire team stunned briefly as they watched what amounted to him lowering coolant intake, increasing power output and amperage, watching that KW number rise upward steadily, led credence to the notion that this was a master of his craft, and his craft was all things mobile suit. "Should approach 970s draw within a few minutes...after that overload should come relatively quickly, so all in all? I'd say we have maybe thirty minutes before this chamber is a glowing pock mark in the wreckage of the lower levels of the base."

"Great, I finished rigging up all the charges I had left, even if the reactors fail to go off, this room at the very least will be wreckage." Drevis confided as he pulled his balaclava from his face, and wiped at his brow. His golden hair leaden with sweat and grime of having wore the thing for several hours. Roland gave Drevis an appreciative nod. "I set them to begin countdown immediately given that a standard radio detonator would be worthless outside of this room anyway, so we have about an hour before they go off, presuming this room isn't a glowing wreck by then.

He knew that his team was made up of professions, the best that Kycilia and her own could find from anywhere within the Zeon military but once more he found himself impressed by the younger pilot. Drevis had already predicted that remote detonation would be impossible likely given that the materials used in construction of this base would interfere with the radio signals, so he had forgone even attempting to bypassing, thus saving them all time and giving them a final ace in the hole when it came to completing their objective. While this room was the heart of the Federation research conducted at Side One, no doubt other facilities existed across the base but if the reactor solution worked then this entire base would be flattened and irradiated to boot, even if it wasn't that dramatic the loss of this lab and materials would hopefully set back if not outright stop whatever program was ongoing.

With the loss of their potential mobile suit program, coupled with Zeon's success to date, and the capture of Revil undoubtedly Zeon would emerge from this soon to occur meeting on Earth as victors of this war.

And all it had cost them was a member of Typhon...Soldiers were expected to die for their nation, expected to die for their causes, expected to die in service to ideals...that was the reality of war, that was the reality of being a soldier.

All the same though.

He would never forget his former teamate, he would never forget Francis Emre, nor would he ever forgive the Federation for that loss. A pledge was a rarity from him yet all the same he made it that day in that lab. Once this war was over, once the conflict had concluded, he would venture back to Side Three and do as Emre had requested, he would speak to his daughter and wife of their husband and father's final bravery.

He owed his fellow soldier that much. He owed Emre that much.

 **END**

* * *

 **AN: Well there it was, this chapter as I said in the opening AN will be the last but as I said in prior chapters there will indeed be a epilogue. So rest assured that the story of Dieter Kries and indeed my little foray into the world of UC Gundam is not quite over yet. Hopefully the epilogue will not take overly long to upload, I am already in the process of writing a fair bit of it. Yet beyond all of that we have a little bit more to discuss before I shut up for the second to last time for this story.**

 **While this story has been more popular then I would have hoped for given our small community I will express a bit of disappointment in the sheer number of reviews to favorites/follows ratio. At present as this chapter is uploaded I currently have seven reviews, compared to ten favorites and twelve follows. Add in another nearly 2,000 readers and I hope my point comes across clearly. I was hoping for more, it didn't come but that's alright. I take away from this that at the very least some enjoyed it enough to actually bother to follow the story for updates.**

 **I do thank you for that, while this story certainly would have been written and completed with or without support, it certainly was nice to see that people enjoyed this story.**

 **I am also happy to report that the Chinese translation of The Soldier of Zeon is actually underway and being uploaded to another site. See KamilleSu for details or check it on Lofter. Honestly looking back while I am disappointed in the lack of reviews, this news of translation honestly brightens my mood every time I think about it. This was my first request to have a story of mine translated and I hope people there enjoy reading it.**

 **Well while this is the story finale, I sort of want to leave the proper wrapping up until the epilogue itself so I am just going to leave it off here.**

 **Till next time in The Soldier of Zeon(which unfortunately will be the last for this story)**

 **-Reborn Akatsuki**


	15. Finale of Black Light

**AN: Here we are for the conclusion of The Soldier of Zeon and while this ride has lasted through much of 2016, I am slightly saddened to see it end. This story was my primary writing focus for a good long time, and while I am glad I am able to move on to other projects including its sequel, I will be blunt in saying that there was something charming about writing out this narrative I had in my head for weeks at a time. I can only hope that it proved enjoyable to you all to read.**

 **With nothing more to add, let's save that for the final author's note at the bottom...let's get to the disclaimer.**

 **Disclaimer: Since the very onset of this story I have not owned Gundam...I still don't**

* * *

 **January 28th, 0079**

 **Lunar City of Granda**

 **Zeon Command Center**

 **Mobile Attack Force Branch Headquarters**

 **1500 Hours**

Kycilia glared dispassionately at the vid-screen as the scrambled and warped message depicted the process of her newly minted special forces. They had gotten their mobile suits aboard the colony according to the last update before communications were once more severed and were moving to their objective. That in and of itself was perhaps the only thing salvageable about the situation. She was set to join the Zeon delegation down on Earth in less then three standard days and unless if this succeeded she would have precious little to add to the negotiation process.

The mere thought of that was infuriating to the female Zabi, she who had always stood in the shadow of her brothers would scrape by in the aftermath of this war if she could not contribute more then merely capturing a handful of moon habitats. Gihren had devised the blitzkrieg that had laid the Federal military to waste across the Sides, Dozle had obliterated what little remained of it at Side Five, and now here she was waiting out the precious seconds glaring at a monitor. If she was to succeed here, whatever secrets, whatever treasures that lurked within that base had to be captured or destroyed, and accredited to her.

"Time on the relief forces to our picket at Side One?" She questioned aloud, at the very least to make sure that her prior issued orders were in fact being carried out. The masked Zabi let out a hiss of annoyance as one of aides informed her that the Lunar garrison was in fact moving as predictably slow and cautiously as possible, none the less she was assured that they would be in position to render extraction at the prearranged time. _'Extraction and nothing more.'_ It wouldn't do for official military action to be ordered while a supposed peace negation was underway, no it simply wouldn't do it, it would affiliate her branch of service at the very least "warhawks" and there were numerous enough allegations of that floating about already in both the Federation and Zeon

At that her thoughts drifted to weeks past and the outbreak of the war and her blood seemed to boil within her veins at the mere notion of what Gihren had ordered of her. To have that parasite **Killing** stationed as a " _supervisor_ " of her marine detachment had resulted in butchery, it was yet another thing to hold Gihren accountable for. She already knew Gihren had done it solely to weaken the connection between her forces and the military proper, and to regain the balance she had already lost...this needed to succeed, no matter the cost.

No and that was why she had issued the orders that she had: **If Typhon is compromised by pursuing Federal forces do not engage.**

It was ruthless, it was utterly pragmatic, utterly like Gihren...yet what choice did she have? If she waged war in these critical hours the entire meeting set to take place in Antarctica in mere days could possibly be undone.

No...even if she had to watch them die herself, if they were engaged in battle with the Federation during their retreat, they would not render aid, she could not compromise Zeon's position...her position merely for the sake of a single squad of soldiers. No matter how talented.

* * *

 **January 28th, 0079**

 **Federal Research Laboratories**

 **Shangri-La Division of Naval Warfare and Research**

 **Side One, Colony One, Shangri La**

 **1700 Hours**

The onrush of Federal personal was at the very least predictable. Storming into the lab, rifles at the ready, a professional assault team sent to reclaim the lower depths of the base, to prevent the enemy that they had never seen coming from penetrating any deeper. They arrived only minutes too late, by the time they had arrived not only had Typhon had more then enough time to rig the room with conventional high explosives, but also to set the miniature fusion reactors of ten capture Zaku on the course towards meltdown.

They were the best of the Federal infantry that was clear from their kit, these were the professional soldiers that had been absent from much of their fight through Side One, these were not the mindless cannon fodder that had charged into scope filled with determination, no these were crafty, he could tell merely from observation as they filed into the room, checking corners and covering their flank. There would no shooting past these, no only was the entire time basically running on fumes for ammunition, but their ace in the hole, the two Zaku II that had carved through the Federal response up to this point were currently locked down in an access lift deeper into the interior of the base.

When it had become apparent that they could take their mobile suits no further, when it had become clear that their greatest strength would have to be left untended they had been reluctantly left on standby at the very point of their entrance. Luckily during Drevis and Poulin's rush through the outer base, they had uncovered a secret, a secret that the Federation would undoubtedly wish they had not learned. The very lift that was designed to ferry munitions, vehicles and parts into this base, the very lift they had used to move their mobile suits into it...directly connected into the primary hangar block for the base, their shipyard.

They had a method of escape through their very transit system, and while in hindsight such a thing may have been an obvious choice design, it none the less presented their best avenue of escaping the base with their mission now accomplished. As the Federal soldiers filtered into the chamber, guns that were raised upward in defiance were leveled at the incoming target. The darkened angular lab's lighting came back on as bulbs once more received power, which meant that the sabotage of their primary power grid had at least been undone or at the very least they had cut back to a secondary system.

That was unimportant, the blackout wasn't meant to be permanent, indeed it was only supposed to buy them a handful of minutes at best, and that it had done. Clearing his throat, parched and dry as it was, the gesture didn't go unnoticed as half dozen rifles were leveled his way in a handful of heartbeats. Glaring pointedly at the Federal soldiers he spoke.

"Clear the way." He demanded as he stood his ground, yet all the same due to the itchy trigger fingers attached to the rifles that were pointed his way he kept his breathing casual and his hands clear. No swift or sudden movements, yet all the same he felt the sweat dripping down from the nape of his neck, it would be so easy for them to kill him right now, they wouldn't get any answers and they'd join him in death shortly thereafter but that was no real consolation. No he valued his own life, he valued his own worth too much for him to giddy over the prospect of dying, yet all the same, they had their path out of here, just shooting to it would only result in their deaths however.

The colony was mobilized now, the Federation knew it was under attack and they had to get out of here as quickly as possible.

One of them, possible the squad leader spoke back. "Surrender."Came the order, and the followup more or less the same. "We have the base and the surrounding area locked down, you and your friends are completely cutoff and we have reinforcements incoming." He threatened as if the possibility of additional soldiers made his point in and of itself, the sheer stupidity of the Federation soldier caused his lip to curl upward in a vicious grin.

"I doubt you have the authority to order me to do anything...boy. But you may wish to get your commanding officer on the line because this will no doubt be of grave concern to every soldier stationed on this colony." He noted the dubious glances at his back from his fellows but he pushed past it, his bravado aside, he knew that if they were to get out of this room, they'd either have shoot through these men or otherwise force them to withdraw. And with Roland wounded, Poulin, Drevis and himself running on fumes for ammunition, the prospect of actually combating a legion of professional soldiers was less then an enthusiastic one.

Moving his arms ever so slowly, he shifted upon his feet and gestured to the containment unit that housed the series of reactors, warning alerts were already beginning to pile upon terminals, each displaying an ever so present truth of their situation: **Coolant Failure, Meltdown Imminent.**

* * *

 **Mere moments before the arrival of the assault team**

"Dieter...do it." Roland commanded softly as the Captain gripped his shoulder, blood trailing through the thick gloves attesting to just the pain that the man must have been feeling yet still set aside.

The final stage of their operation well within hand, he had been given the duty to see them to their escape. Glancing at the various terminals and the thick cables and feeds that routed through them, he let out a held breath as his hands hovered above the glass paneled emergency alarm before punching down into it. Warning klaxons blared, emergency lighting flicked on as the prearranged explosives stationed at the two power stations that fed dedicated electricity were obliterated, Drevis as he had come to learn was something of an artist when it came to explosive devices, the bomber maker had slapped together a makeshift receiver that would pick upon on the alarm circuits for the base.

All in all their prearranged solution would hopefully disrupt mid to long range communications, thus cutting off the base from the rest of the Side, and those outside it, and not to mention...all the doors would now be unlocked to aid them in their escape. Hopefully it would remain that way once the power came back on and they were in route, they just needed this temporary distraction, this slight of hand to keep the dedicated sensors aboard the colony from detecting a potential reactor meltdown was imminent, even however if that was detected with all the explosives squared away in the room, it ultimately wouldn't matter.

Hidden amid desks, atop terminals, even in drawers and along the walls, thin packets of high composite explosive lined the room. Drevis had assured both he and Roland that this room would be destroyed, there was simply too much destructive potential within for it to survive, it was just the base itself might still stand if the reactors did not go off, and this was just a last minute addition to the plan for that to go undetected as long as possible. Truthfully it was a stroke of luck that their prior actions had enabled their current plan to succeed if not in part, plans came together on the fly and were adjusted and accounted for. Roland had left this stage as broad as possible to account for whatever possibility and yet even he likely could not have foreseen that they would stumble across the very means of destroying the research that so troubled Kycilia and could potentially pose a threat to Zeon itself...within the very mission undertook to eliminate that threat.

All the same though, what came after this would be even more important to the success of Black Light and thus of Zeon itself in the war.

* * *

 **Present Time**

 **"Do you understand now Feddie?"** He spat with contempt. He watched as color drained from their faces, their eyes widen in shock, the realization of what was about to occur set in and couldn't help but feel his lip twist upward once more in some grim sense of satisfaction. "Get your commander to authorize a withdrawal, pull back...and let us leave." He demanded, the conditions were simple and while he had no inherent desire to die here, if these reactors went off, and took this colony with it...no great loss to him, their mission would be accomplished either way.

"If you act quickly enough you may even be able to salvage this situation as to where you don't lose the entire colony." He added coldly. As it stood now, they had the base, the district, the entire colony as their potential hostages and he would exploit that position.

He saw the pure unadulterated hatred and rage directed at him, directed at Typhon, he didn't gave it heed and instead gave a single glance to Poulin before requesting an update, perhaps a timeline would give these Feddies some incentive. "Poulin...time until they go?" He questioned aloud, as his eyes shifted back towards the assembly of soldiers, their rifles still bore his way.

"30 minutes. At best." Came Poulin's firm declaration. Half an hour at most, he knew the demands he had leveled at were near impossible to accomplish in that time frame and still be in position to move to repair and stabilize the reactors but that wasn't his concern. At the mention of their timetable his mind raced back to Drevis's planned explosive strike, according to him they had a little under an hour before they went off, the time gap between the two methods of destruction was vast but hopefully would ensure that either...this base was destroyed.

Besides he could see it in their eyes, the sheer fear and terror at the mere prospect of nuclear annihilation, no they wouldn't be looking for anything beyond ways to save this colony from its imminent destruction. "We are willing to die to see this destroyed...are you willing to kill everyone aboard this colony to potentially save it?" He questioned rhetorically.

Seconds passed, the longest seconds of his life up until then. Every breath seemingly brought them all closer to nuclear annihilation.

"Fine. You win." The lead infantryman spat in frustration as he fumbled for his own radio at his hip to call into his superiors.

The ball was rolling and now they would dictate what was to come, it was no longer reactionary. As the soldier now informed his no doubt horrified commander of the situation as it stood, what their demands were...he couldn't help but let out a bark of short rancorous laughter. He was prepared to die for his cause, he was a soldier after all...Yet all the same, the question posed to the Federation would be one of acting in good faith or seeking vengeance.

Are four lives worth more then ten million? Was stopping their escape, worth sacrificing this colony to them? He knew by sheer pragmatism that the Federation would likely seek to do both, they would move to undo their sabotage and hopefully be so distracted by the imminent reactor breach they would pay the explosives no heed and thus either way those facilities would be destroyed, but at the same they would also likely be moving to prevent their escape or at the very least tail them back to wherever they had come from.

As the Federation forces began filing out of the room, their guns still drawn on the soldiers of Zeon he couldn't help but let out a short chuckle as sweated panned on his brow.

"Drevis...I want those bombs tamper proof before we go, at the very least this will be destroyed...even if they save the colony." He commanded as he rapidly assumed Roland's side kneeling down to eye level as his Captain's stained brow dribbled sweat, matting his face in grime and filth as he let out a short breath of exultation. "Sir, are you still capable of piloting? I am sure Poulin can assume your duties if you are not feeling up to it." He stated as he eyed the torn and bloodied fabric of the normal suit in the grim lighting of the lab.

"No...I'm in charge of this op and I won't let this scratch stop me." The Captain hissed vehemently as he regained his balance and pushed himself upward from the cover he had been taking refuge behind, pistol still clenched in hand. "Besides...someone needs to show you up every now and again, how am I to live with being charge of this unit if, you are the one doing all the heavy lifting eh Dieter?" He joked, his throat rasping all the while as it pushed out choked words mixed with pain and desperation, whatever else could be said about the man...

Lee Roland was a soldier first and foremost and he would always be a symbol of stubbornness, toughness and the strength of the Zeon fighting men.

* * *

Clambering back into the sealed confines of his Zaku he felt a giddy childlike rush flow through him as he felt the floor beneath his Zaku shift was the lift began lowering deeper into the bowels of the base, with a direct line to the private spacedocks for the facility, he knew they had won. Now all they needed to do was make for the spacedock and secure some means of transporting their two teammates along with the Zaku. While the confines were tight, he supposed both he and Roland could take on a passenger but that would vastly restrict their ability to defend themselves outside of the colony...no they would need to seize some method of transport.

Just as Drevis had done at the spaceport hours ago, just this time they wouldn't be stealing some pointless APC, no they needed a shuttle or a fighter, something, anything space worthy and that could keep up with a mobile suit. He keyed up the primary monitors, and the camera flashed as it began taking in visual data from its onboard sensors and secondary lens. The lift shuddered and the emergency lighting flickered and dimmed in the passage but apart from the ever present whirring of machinery and the noise generated from their suits there was silence, no doubt the Federation had held back just far enough that they could quickly resume their positions.

The lift continued its slowed descent even as his internal clock on the bombs ticked down, Drevis has given them on hour at most, and with his assurance that the majority of the explosives would indeed detonate even if by some miracle they were discovered...he could only hope the man was right, as they had filed out of the lab as a final measure of spite against the Federation Drevis had rigged his final fragmentation grenade against the deck to the pressurized door of the lab. If nothing else that little trap would cost them time trying to disarm it, or if they were lucky it would potentially kill or injure anyone coming into the room in an attempt to stabilize the reactors.

The fusion generators were growing increasingly unstable and volatile by the minute and he didn't want to be anywhere near them when they went off. A single Zaku II exploding had been enough in the vacuum to basically shred anything within a hundred meters, just what would ten of them do confined as they were within a colony? He admitted some grim curiosity to their outright destructive potential. After all, the more damage they did, the more likely whatever secrets and information stored within this base, would never see the light of day again, anything and everything in the furtherance of the cause of Zeon.

The emergency lighting flickered for a moment for shutting off casting the entire downward sloped vertical tunnel in pitched darkness before the regular lighting came to activate in blinding rapid pulses before steadying themselves out, the lift itself had stalled out as the power began being restored before resuming its downward descent. Well they had known going into this that destroying the nearby local power stations would have been at best, a temporary measure to just buy them more time, and even then it would be just a mere matter of time before it switched over to a secondary grid or perhaps its own reactor.

As the lift slid down the final portion of the shaft, the dark downward tunnel finally gave way to the docking array, the private space dock was like any within the Federation, all pristine and sterile colors of blue and white. Rolling galleries of concrete, steel and alloys, As his Zaku lifted itself off of its back, and slowly stood to its full 17 meter height, he grinned as his machine twisted in tight tandem motion with its brother. Camera scanning the interior of the hangar, made out the distant landscape of the room, inside it were dedicated repair craft and pods, entire wings devoted to maintaining and upkeep of the warships assigned to this colony's defense picket. As his suit took its first steps into the hangar, he noted with some grim satisfaction due to this station being designed to house drydocked warships, there was room to spare, it would allow a full range of motion and that was pleasing. As what remained of Typhon continued to the chamber, it was noted that within this hangar were scarce few people, even the stubborn and foolish that had remained despite the Federal withdrawal scattered at the approach of the two Zaku II and their accompanying soldiery.

Stepping past overturned tool carts and pushing through loose and scattered cargo that lined the deck on the approach to sealed docking hub that let out into the vacuum, within the chamber itself apart from the pods and repair vehicles there were a score of lined Saberfish upper platforms, and while those might suffice they would likely not be ideal given that he doubted that even he could make sense of a Feddie fighter inside the allotted time frame even with his prior experience flying Gobble fighters during his earlier days in the military. No, they'd have to do better, perhaps on the outer-docking clamps, there would be a freighter or perhaps a shuttle that would be a more ideal spacecraft.

* * *

 **January 28th, 0079**

 **Federal Space Dock**

 **Shangri-La Division of Naval Warfare and Research**

 **Side One, Colony One, Shangri La**

 **1700 Hours**

As his mobile suit lowered itself down to the deck and he clambered out of the cockpit, scarcely having removed the restraints once more before clambering out of the open hatch he eyed the scene through the transparent material with growing skepticism. The view port to the void that hung along the hangar painted a picture of sheer disbelief, on the outer docking array of Shangri La were dozens of warships, ships of the line, not solely made up of missile frigates or carriers but of Salamis and Magellan battleships and cruisers. While the arrayed force outside was intimidating, he viewed in something of a skeptic light, did they knew they were already here? If so would they fire on the hangar itself if given the chance?

As the team secured the hangar, the few personal that had been around in the area had fled at the arrival of their Zaku and the accompanying soldiers but all the same, they would move to ensure their safety while they worked. During the course of the search for transport yet more Federation issue one size fits all normal suits were uncovered in the readying room for the pilots on standby, as the rest of the team changed into their space gear ditching their well worn and torn armor out for something that could hold up to vacuum, both he and the Captain stood watch. Though from the way the Captain was beginning to look grayish and the fact that his shoulder wound had yet to stop bleeding, forced him to take command of the situation and relieve his commanding officer, banishing Roland back to his Zaku to ensure that he didn't just pass out on his feet.

As the minutes passed and the team reemerged he busied himself by inspecting the hangar, his mobile suit, the progress of the others, all the while being well aware of the ticking clock that they were operating on.

The timer was ticking down, and by his reckoning though Poulin would be the only one to know sure, they had perhaps another few minutes before the reactors went critical and began meltdown, to add into that they had only around half another before the bombs that Drevis had rigged detonated and made the entire thing a moot point, while he didn't doubt Federal construction, he did doubt that construction when it was pitted against a dozen high explosives arranged in such a fashion to solely obliterate as much real estate as possible.

It would in all likelihood collapse at the very least a few floors below it, and while he doubted the hangar would be overly effected by the bombs, the fusion reactors going critical would likely fry the entire base, they wouldn't want to be around when those went off... _if they did._ He mentally added. He was broken from his trance by Poulin's decree of finding a suitable transport, he turned on the cockpit gantry as he hopped down to the deck to just find what had caught their unofficial mechanic's eye. In truth he didn't know what to expect, not from this mission, not from today.

All their planning had more or less gone to hell by this point, all they could do was ride by the seat of their pants and hope to survive, after all...what good had their planning done Emre? What good would it do them? Discipline kept him in check, but all the same he felt the underpinnings of the rage he had felt earlier still swirling around his psyche. His mind was dark with thoughts of retribution, of revenge, of making the Federation pay, of making them bleed for this outrage, but those were his own concerns and thus came after the mission, and were not put ahead of it.

His musings ceased however when he came upon the docking portal that Poulin was trying to unlock via its sealed console terminal, glancing merely at the view port he noted a single long range medical evac shuttle, likely of the same make that had ferried the team aboard the only initially after the destruction of the Tripoli at it's onset, it would blend in quite nicely with a raging battlescape, and perhaps give both his teammates who were denied their mobile suit's at present a better chance of survival.

"Hurry up you damned door!" Poulin hissed under his breath as he brought one of his massive gloved fists against the terminal as it once again rejected his attempts at gaining entry quite as rapidly as he wished. He didn't quite know what the holdup here was, he had hoped that the temporary power surge would have override any locking mechanisms across the base, but perhaps the hangar ran on a separate network or its own secondary generators? He gave a sideways glance to Roland's Zaku which still held up its defensive position, at the ready to repel any hostiles and let out a weary breath.

To make matters worse it was only a matter of time before they were discovered here, and the forces stationed along the exterior of the colony became aware of them, if they were not already. So they had a problem and needed to solve it as quickly as possible.

They didn't have anything save their munitions from the Zaku that could punch through this pressurized hatch, but doing that would likely shred the docking port and expose the approach to the shuttle to the vacuum so that was untenable...what options were there though? He noticed Drevis whom had been oddly out of sight during the entire foray into the hangar save during the brief time the team had come together at the Feddie ready room for the two not already donned in normal suits to do so. And there he was at the control station for the hangar, and was rapidly going through the banks of switchboards, levers and dials seemingly in search of something before pressing a single button with a evident grin, and with that button press their fates were irreversibly altered. "I found the launch controls, I am opening the doors!" He boasted just as what he set into much began.

The great doors of the hangar began sliding open, pressurization was lost within moments as the interior atmosphere began voiding itself into space, and he couldn't help but scowl he felt the breath sucked from his lungs. No doubt this hangar contained within it an adequate store of oxygen, so they wouldn't suffer immediate decompression related deaths but, this sped up their timetable immeasurably. As the hangar bay was continually exposed to vacuum, and he felt the ever present tug of his body reacting to the presence of the certain death that avoided in the void, Poulin gave him a grim look as the pressure door to the docking clamp finally released and slid outward revealing the shuttle. "Go on Dieter, I'll go grab that dumb kid." Poulin gave him a firm declaration as he gripped the hatch for his own normal suit's helmet before pulling it downward and cutting of further communication. He gave his fellow soldier a brief nod of appreciation he pushed back along the corridor to his suit, feet scarcely touching the ground as he pulled himself along, against the onrush of the rapidly fleeting air supply of the chamber. Reaching the foot of his stationary Zaku, he didn't cease his movement, even as he made usage of the lesser gravity of the hangar and propelled himself upward clambering into it in a blind rush of self preservation, he didn't even realize until the cockpit was resealing itself that he noticed that remaining members of Typhon save him and the Captain were bringing the shuttle back along on its sled, he didn't realize why at first until he noted its placement in the drydock.

Its exterior clamp prevented it from firing as it was currently placed, it would have to be launched from the sled in the hangar proper.

Of course nothing could ever be easy for their missions, nothing could ever go simply.

Well at the very least with the doors now open, once the shuttle was in position it launch immediately, all the same though the Zaku would go first. He wasn't losing anyone else.

* * *

As his Zaku fell in behind the Captain's and the commandeered shuttle he let out a short bark of laughter, they were actually going to get away with this. The Federation had undoubtedly fell in to secure the labs and thus ensure that the reactor's would not go critical, all the while unaware of the ticking clock for the secondary threat, and the fact they were making good on their escape. Thermal spikes were all that alerted him to the incoming danger, his machine was haphazardly pushed aside at the very last second as a burst of yellow twinged energy burnt into the hangar, melting and scorching as it went along its path of destruction. His camera showed the pulse of energy just sweeping past the area his suit had just occupied mere seconds before in a mixture of awe and shock.

His machine groaned and tilted as it steadied itself, his eyes locked on the camera image depicting what had occurred. The Captain had shoved his Zaku back a handful of steps with his own and thus saved it from what would have been a long ranged bombardment, his Zaku's primary camera veered and spun around its track until he found what had taken the shot and it stole his breath from him for a moment. The outer docking array which had once boasted a formidable arsenal of ships was a flurry of movement, in particular was what was undoubtedly the flagship breaking free of its anchoring, the Magellan that had been the prominent fixture of the outer docking clamps was now disembarking, its turrets tracking them and was obviously getting ready to make way as soon as possible, he felt rather then heard the detonation of whatever the beam ended striking behind them as it cast up smoke and debris into the vacuum.

No doubt those beam rounds had punched through whatever bit of hull they had come into contact with before continuing their destructive journey before losing energy, his rear camera mounts displayed the destruction to him but even still he wasn't complaining, if the Federation wanted to shoot up their own colony, that was their right, and they just needed to make it off this station before it either exploded or they were overwhelmed, there was no other concern.

"We need to hurry, sooner or later they are going to get lucky and we need be gone before they are allowed to move and unleash a full broadside." The Captain issued his command as his machine took its place in their queue pushing past the shuttle only for the outstretched palm of the Captain's Zaku to force him back. "No you take up position behind me, protect the shuttle, we need to buy as much time as possible while they rig up the rocket sled." The Captain's plan made sense but all the same, it would now just a single lucky volley for them all to die if they were going to arrange themselves so neatly in a row.

The Captain seemingly however everything in hand as he tossed aside his nearly spent 120mm machine gun, the bulky rifle dropped to the hangar floor with a crash of impact and as it feel his superior was already reaching for his secondary weapon. The Zaku gripped the storage bay behind his shoulder rack and pulled free his 280mm bazooka, the tubed rocket launcher glinted dazzling in the artificial lighting of the room his machine shouldered it and let loose with a quick volley of shells. One, Two, Three and Four the entire magazine was emptied one after the other and as the explosives shelled through the void he could only hope that the Captain's aim had been true.

While those rockets wouldn't cripple a battleship hopefully if they all struck point it would cause them enough damage to be force to deal with the wreck their battleship had become rather then Typhon whom were still busy awaiting the shuttle launch. Even now his internal count of the potential reactor breached ticked down ever nearer to zero. Minutes at best before they breached and expended all their stored energy, and even if they didn't melt down there was always the explosives just dozens of minutes later, they needed to hurry either way. The longer they stayed aboard this colony now, the surer death was for them.

* * *

"We have all thrust systems engaged and are preparing to jettison the sled!" Poulin's voice came in over the commline just as the Captain resumed his barrage on the battleship that was now dominating the space beyond the hangar, that vessel and its escorts that were freeing themselves of their berths would be given free range to box them in soon if they didn't leave. The reactors undoubtedly would have gone critical by now if they were going so it was clear that their attempt at sabotage had failed or else they had grossly miscalculated the timetable of it, either way, there was still the imminent threat of the bombs.

The shuttle shuddered as the bulky apparatus of its launch platform fell free in the zero g environment as its engines began to burn brightly with potential energy. They were nearly ready, just a few more minutes, but how much longer would Roland be capable of suppressing a battleship when he was incapable of moving? It would be all too easy to join his side in their defense but he had been given his orders, and he had to trust in those. "Ready for disembarking in thirty seconds..." Poulin trailed off as another barrage of beam rounds ate into the colony, was the battleship even trying to hit them anymore was it was just firing freely? Plumes of energy ate into the hangar block and its surroundings. Steel and plate melted, and failed under the onslaught and even the deck below their feet shuddered, even if they weren't directly struck no doubt the space dock wasn't designed to handle anywhere near this much punishment, he wouldn't be surprised if the entire section of the colony was becoming unstable under the damage.

"Ready for launch!" Poulin's frantic cries came out and he immediately found his hands on the controls to maneuver out of the shuttle's path, however he had no cleared any ground save perhaps a step or two when Roland's proclamation hit his ears. "Incoming!" That singular word was all the warning he could make out through the line before the strike, dozens of missiles, conventional shells and lances of energy tore the hangar block apart, seemingly vessel in the flotilla surrounding the drydock and hangar had turned their guns towards the location of their enemy.

Through the chaos of that ensuing bombardment, all he could make out through the fire, smoke and destruction about him were the hazy trails of energy bursting through walls, explosive shells erupting into hails of shrapnel and debris, the lighting failing casting the vast hangar into darkness, the sight of Poulin and Drevis's shuttle being batted around by the detonation of the missiles in zero g. In the insanity of that series of seconds, all he could think was that he refused to die here, die like this, huddling like a coward aboard some Federal colony, just mere meters from escape. As the walls and floors sagged as, depressurization and failing materials set in, he forced his Zaku upward, the mobile suit shuddered under the quaking floor beneath him, but none the less he was going to get the shuttle sorted out and then he was going to get off this damn station. Though the fire, smoke and crumbling hangar he made the Captain's suit still standing proud and aloft despite the turblence it was experiencing. "Captain, I am going to free the ship!" He declared as his suit advanced forward, the shuttle itself was tilted downward, the rocket sled had been cast aside and was hanging loosely from its clamps, his machine reached down and pulled firmly against the cabling with its manipulators, exerting force that could easily crush even reinforced I steel, the cabling went slack as it ground into the "hand" of the suit before breaking off, he just needed to right it now and it would be ready for launch, he could only hope that the hangar would hold together long enough for it to do that, but given that Poulin's second to last communication with them had confirmed they had systems ready for it, hopefully it wouldn't take overly long.

Righting the vessel was his first priority after freeing it, tilting the large vessel upward without compromising its hull was difficult but the process had to be done quickly and with far less tact and skill then he preferred, the large divots and imprints of the Zaku's manipulators bit into the hull but he hoped it would even as he tilted the machine upward once again. He grunted in acknowledgement to the thanks that Poulin gifted him with, and only nodded at the promise of them being ready to depart within the minute.

A flash of light was all the warning he got as the advancing beam particles struck into something solid, the brilliant glare of the energy as it ate into reinforced armor plating and alloy shook him to his core. His eyes had to be lying to him again, this couldn't be happening...Beyond the hangar the battleship was finally free of its berth and was holding station just outside the bounds of the colony, and its mega particle cannons were trained on the hangar, as his eyes traced the fire back to what it had struck however, he couldn't process it. He had to be suffering some sort of hallucination brought on by head trauma or lack of sleep. Roland's Zaku still standing proud and erect like a towering symbol of Zeon's strength and pride stood before them and the battleship, the Zaku II's armor still glowing faintly where the energy had slammed into it like a tidal wave of death. Sparks and dripping metal flowed from the great machine like wounds on some ancient herculean figure as it slumped downward as if accepting defeat, the chassis was pitted and torn apart, the full fury of the main guns of that battleship had been let loosed upon it and while it had held together it had not done so without cost.

The entire upper section of the suit, including its main camera, much of its frontal armor and even the shoulder pauldrons had been simply been burnt away. The cockpit's outer door was warped and scarred from the wrath of the beam weaponry, bent inward and torn from the pressures and heat supplied to the energy. Fuel and coolant bled freely from dozens of warps and cracks on the internals, flames licked across its frame and he could not take his eyes off the scene, even as the shuttle's own thrusters finally burned a hot white as it sped downward across the hangar, his own Zaku still clinging to it as it launched upward straight into the waiting maw of the Magellan.

Even as the shuttle tilted to avoid incoming AA fire he did not move, did not take his eyes from the monitor, even as battle and war raged onward around them, he could do nothing more then watch the scene in the hangar as they sped outward into the vacuum. Roland's Zaku had openly caught fire by now, and was smoldering as fuel and coolant ignited before the tanks themselves were engulfed in flames, small explosions and outward bursts of shrapnel resounded across the machine was it crumbled in the abandoned hangar. He knew what was coming, he knew what the Captain himself had done, had willingly done, yet he could not tear his eyes away, he was forcing himself to watch, regardless of what it would do to him, regardless of what it would unleash within him mind, body and soul.

He owed it to the man, that and more.

Eyes widening in disbelief he could scarcely utter a word as the C type exploded outward in a column of flame and wrath , its own fusion reactor overloading and blowing both the machine and the hangar to hell. As they exited into the vacuum, he noted that there were plumes of flame and dust escaping across the outer hull of the colony, no doubt the result of Drevis's bombs and as if to confirm that a massive gout of fire seemingly rushed across the sealed interior of the space dock ushering in yet more explosions as the hull around the outer docking array decompressed and folded inward from pressures it was no long able to contain. The assorted warships still within their berths that had been content to unleash their payloads upon them were one by one caught in the procession of death as the docking array fragmented and blew outward into the deep darkness of space.

No one within the base could survive that, surely the base itself was a smoking crater...there was no way for him to confirm the results of the bomb blast, not to mention Roland's own fusion reactor going off just beneath their target but all the same, surely...it was over now.

Even the mighty Magellan which had freed itself and coasted into firing position just outside of the hangar was not spared as clouds of debris and wreckage bombarded its massive frame, causing the vessel to tilt and strain under repeat impacts of a far greater magnitude and velocity then it had ever been designed to weather. The great vessel was bent and twisted inward as it floated without direction, its main bridge mast and much of the hull ripped asunder by micro or not so micro debris.

Yet despite all the destruction and death unleashed upon the Federation, the image of Roland's Zaku II slumping downward, boiled away by mega particle cannon fire still dominated his mind.

 **Captain Lee Roland, the second casualty of Black Light**

* * *

 **January 28, 0079**

 **Side One, Outer Field**

 **Shangri-La Approach**

 **MS-06C Zaku II**

 **1800 Hours**

His machine groaned under the strain as its engines continued to propel it through vacuum, the nuclear powered rockets flung his mobile suit at speeds nearly approaching threshold breaches but he maintained it. Even as his suit strained under the pressure, as rivets and seals hissed and broke loose, he had to put as much distance between himself and the colony as quickly as possible. Even as his rear camera's were dominated by the explosions tearing the Space Dock apart as the warships detonated in firestorms of debris and shrapnel. The Zeon Fleet awaited them at the rendezvous point, all they'd need to do is push as fast and hard as they could to get there and link up with the Argus and her escorts and this mission would be a grand success.

Abet one that had not gone as well as could have been hoped but the research, the laboratories themselves, the base itself all were wiped from existence. He kept pace with the shuttle that bore his... _surviving_ team members, his teeth ground into each other at the mere thought of the Captain's senseless death, of Emre's death, but the Captain's just rubbed him raw. Emre had died by his own volition presumbly, and yet the Captain had done the same.. it was just in the effort to save them all...all of this, all of it could have been avoided if they had just been given just a few more seconds. No...it wasn't senseless not in truth, it was unneeded but not senseless. Roland had been willing to give his life for his brother's in arms to aid in their escape. His sacrifice, his devotion should be honored, not belittled...but it was not entirely due to Roland that were allowed exit. True while he had staved off the worst of the mega particle blast, the only reason they had gotten that far to begin with was his own gambit. Yes thanks to his quick decision making ability, and his willingness to kill every soul on the colony, they had been given a brief window of escape, and due to his actions, every vessel capable of pursuing them from that dock was wreckage.

The captured Feddie shuttle that held his remaining two teammates s[ed along after him, the Federal naval response was due at any time but if they could outpace that response, they might survive long enough to reach the Zeon perimeter. Even from this distance his scanners were picking up steady movement of the surrounding picket flotilla's, no doubt they were notified that the surviving assault team had fled the colony were speeding as quickly as they could out of the bunch cluster. "Poulin, mark trajectory for the arranged meeting place." His rasped through in thick breathes, breathing in deeply the stale and saturated air.

"Marking at 9 and 6." Poulin replied as his own tight beam array confirmed their destination to his Zaku via laser burst transmission. Eyeing the layout of the exterior field skeptically, he sighed wearily, they had a long way to go to escape the confines of Side One, even as they left Shangri-La behind them, they still had to evade or punch through whatever garrison was on standby at the border, and hopefully make it through to the Zeon fleet, once they linked up with the Argus and its escorts however, that would be it. The Federation would either have to pursue them beyond the bounds of Side One, where they would be at fault for any potential hostilities or abandon pursuit all together.

Either outcome would suit their purpose.

And after they escaped, after this mission was finally ended...he could come to grips with being the sole surviving officer within Typhon, with the very real possibility that the next time it was deployed it would be under his banner. Such a notion mere hours ago had been foreign to him, but losing Emre, and then the Captain in such short order reaffirmed to him the reality of war. Only the strong would survive it and even then it was no guarantee, because after all it was by no weakness that either Roland or his fellow officer fell, quite the opposite they died to ensure their success, their survival. If it came down to it, all soldiers were prepared to give up their lives to accomplish their mission, to save the men who served alongside them in the crucible of combat and strife.

Yet these thoughts were for later, for now they needed to angle their escape trajectory and prepare for what was to come, the looming field of wreckage of the great battles of Side One were before them. The heat scorched hulls of dozens of ships littered several dozen kilometers of space on the outlying fields of Side One and while going directly through it would likely prove hazardous...it would also be far quicker then attempting to cut around it.

"Keep close, I am going directly through the debris field." He commanded of his surviving fellows, waiting no for them to acknowledge his command.

He was in charge and they all knew it.

Keying up the primary thruster array his suit blared as it lurched forward, its velocity increasing tremendously as the propellant pushed it forward into the graveyard of ships that awaited.

* * *

The next hour was a blur of frantic activity, watching his fuel reserves dwindle, watching the ever approaching Federal reinforcements slowly close into their position, the tightening of the noose around their collective necks. Yet for all the panic that was felt throughout his system, he kept it suppressed and in check, his discipline was hardly absolute but it was enough to overcome such base emotion...when it suited him. This aided in part with the hope that he knew awaited beyond the bounds of Side One in neutral space, reinforcements, their reinforcements. A Zeon fleet, a task force, no doubt that would be capable of deferring any Federal aggression and even if wasn't, it at the very least would be an even fight then.

Avoiding the vengeful pursuit of the Federation in the immediate lead up to linking up with those forces however was proving to be quite the challenge, seemingly every ship stationed within the immediate vicinity of Side One was steaming towards them, there was no escape save to break as quickly and as rapidly through the former frontlines of Side One as possible and hope that the fleet was in position to provide relief. If they weren't there or if they weren't combat worthy...Typhon would die here, they all would die here and he refused to let that happen, two members was enough for a single day. Tilting his head back into the plush consoled seat of his suit he let out a hectic breath, today had been exhausting and yet the adrenaline kept flowing, and he knew it would.

This wasn't over yet, it wouldn't over until they had all docked aboard the Argus and were speeding back as quickly as possible to Zeon held territory, only then could it end.

* * *

 **January 28, 0079**

 **Side One, Outer Field**

 **Colonial Defense Picket**

 **MS-06C Zaku II**

 **2000 Hours**

Skirting through the wreckage of prior battles and avoiding the debris that formed clouds throughout the zone was no easy task but cutting straight through it would be the quickest way to link up with the Zeon fleet. Eyeing his reactor time with a critical eye he let out a held breath, his machine perhaps had another hour of operation in it before it required restocks of coolant and helium-3 but with Federal pursuers quickly gaining on them, that time could easily be spent fighting off wave after wave of outgoing reinforcements from the colonies, not to mention the Federal navy stationed on border duty to safeguard the Side. Killing the thrusters sent his machine plummeting forward as momentum carried it but, conversing fuel was also needed here, he had been burning far too much to put as many miles between him and Shangri-La as possible, and while that had succeeded his thruster's core temperature was hardly encouraging.

The patchjob Poulin had thrown together on Granada had held up so far but that was outside of dedicated space combat, he wasn't keen to try his hand at that, little lone against an entire force by himself. They had accomplished their mission, the price had been high but it was done. Typhon had won, they had succeeded and with every second they grew closer to escape, yet his scopes were always there to reaffirm that they had a force rapidly closing in on them. At the forefront of that force he noted with some dissatisfaction were smaller blips, no doubt Saberfish that would no doubt reach them before they broke through the debris belt to the awaiting Zeon fleet.

Fragments and shrapnel pelted his suit as it dove through the ocean of scrap, the wreckage of dozens of ships, Zeon and Federation alike that had been destroyed during the earlier battles. Due to the sheer density of it, he could scarcely avoid every piece, yet all the same he kept his eyes on monitors and radar alike. Just because his suit could shrug off micro impacts, did not mean he could strike solid bulkhead or unexploded munitions without it being costly, all the same though his duty on the vanguard was to secure a safe path through it, the shuttle couldn't be tasked with such a thing, it wasn't armored to nearly the extent of his mobile suit.

Swirling his machine upward he launched into it once again, thrusters and verniers burning brightly as he pushed his suit as hard as he dared.

He heard the blare emitted from his radar screen mere seconds before the countermeasures aboard his suit whined loudly as his suit became aware a targeting lock had been established upon it, giving a brief glance to his scopes he scowled at the path that the Federation pilots had likewise carved through the junk field...they were close enough to lock on to him, which meant they were close enough to get a lot on the shuttle as well. _'Poulin and Drevis can't fight back in that thing, and its barely holding together as it is...'_ Those thoughts and more echoed through his mind, if he did not stop the Federation from catching up to them, no doubt the shuttle would be targeted in the course of the battle and destroyed outright. He could not allow that, would not allow that, Typhon was already depleted, denied his other officer and even its commander...those losses were enough, even though their success had come to them, the price was a grating thing to comprehend. Pulling back on the stick and swinging the multiton war machine into a sharp turn that threatened to snap the reinforced armoring off the chassis of his suit he banked alongside the shuttle for a mere heartbeat before overtaking it and pushing back against the Federation pilots.

If they wanted a fight, he would give them one, he could only hope that while he was drawing attention away from the commandeered shuttle, Poulin and Drevis could break through and linkup with the fleet and signal for reinforcements. Keying into the communication line, he let out a weary sigh before speaking."You go on ahead, I will deal with this..." He let the line go dead before a reply could be issued, this was a day of destruction, of not only the Federation but for themselves, if their track record was anything to go by...all the same though.

He wasn't dying here, he was going to make damn sure of that, no more of his team was dying today. He had such thoughts before in the day and now two instead of one comrade had died this day, no more, no more! no goddamn more! Those cretins, his brothers in arms, those that had stood at his side throughout battle and beyond, those who had earned his attention, his trust, his grudging respect...he would lose no more of his comrades this day. As his 120mm came up into combat position raised aloft, he eyed the monitor awaiting a targeting lock as it configured on encroaching Saberfish. There were four of them, a full squadron, no doubt bristling with arms and munitions and enough fuel to trail them all the way to the Moon if required...the targeting reticle was beginning to get an accurate measurement of distance between both his Zaku and the squad of fighters, just a few more seconds...

The Fighter craft finally within range and becoming aware fleeing Zeon they had been pursuing, one of them at the very least had turned around and was challenging them to battle let free their missiles, and as the swarms of explosives and gunfire arched through the void all he could wait for conformation of a targeting lock...As the small box that hovered above the incoming fighter craft flashed red, his finger snapped down to the firing stud and shoved it inward with as much force as he could muster.

His machine gun let loose a bark of fire and violence as he fell into the familiar pace of battle once again.

* * *

The final Saberfish of the intercepting squadron that had been harrying them since their escape from Shangri-La erupted into a cloud of bright flame of burning oxygen, fuel and wreckage as his volley scored a direct hit into its fuselage as it tried its luck on flanking him. His machine gun's burst cut out only when it ran out of rounds to feed into it from the magazine and as his eyes focused on the instruments and scopes aboard his machine, his hands ran through the long nearly subconscious aspect of actually having his machine reload its ranged armament. His machine gun held outstretched and proud by his Zaku's emptied magazine was pulled aside and tossed into the debris and wreckage that decorated the inner fields of Side One, leftovers from the Zeon siege. The fresh clip, his last clip was loaded into the weapon and he let out a held breath, eyes closing wearily before snapping open once more. His internal clock was what he was operating on, he needed to ensure that what was left of Typhon could get far enough ahead of any pursuers that when he did finally break from this failing vanguard action, they were not immediately swamped in enemies...they at the very least wouldn't but as his eyes scanned his scopes and monitors and saw the dozens of fiery white trails of shipboard nuclear drive he realized that wouldn't be the case for him.

Eyeing the collection of incoming ships warily he counted off a half dozen Salamis class before he shook his head in futility of the gesture, from that number alone it was too much to take on a given time by himself with the weapons he had at present, perhaps had he more fuel or ammunition he could do a better job of staving off these reinforcements but merely getting into range would put himself at risk of their cannons and he wouldn't he doom himself on such a gamble.

Ripping the Zaku from its stationary position amid the carnage of the battlefield, his machine turned slowly before it began to accelerate. With the immediate danger of the fighters out of the way and the head start he had given the shuttle he could only hope that they were in the process of breaching the outer fields of Side One as he resumed his own flight. Propellant burning as rapidly he dared push the wearied machine, he had to link back up with the shuttle and resume his protection of it, or at the very least break through to the fleet by himself if they had already rendezvoused with it. Still this wasn't how it was supposed to be, it wasn't what had been discussed with Kycilia, the Argus had been meant to bombard the colony and aid in their extraction, and yet that had never occurred...instead according to Roland's last communication with the Argus when they had secured the hangar to bring their suits aboard the colony, they were to meet up with them beyond the fields of Side One, if they had been given dedicated support would this mission had turned out the way it had? What had caused the change? What had led to Kycilia seemingly abandoning the prior plan?

They had made due, they had destroyed the base and whatever secrets it may have possessed but...he bit into his lip harshly as he banished those thoughts away, now wasn't the time for now, he had to focus, not ponder on what might have occured since the departure of Typhon from Granada.

* * *

Catching up to the shuttle was sadly not that pressing a task the Federation ship had been burning as hard as its engines could handle but it was still just a simple transport, it was designed to ferry personal to the docks and to outbound vessels, it wasn't designed for prolonged travel and its speed reflected that yet all the same linking back up with the remnants of Typhon bore both good tidings and ill, for the positives they were both now in position to resume their coordinated flight to the Zeon fleet with him providing them protection that the shuttle itself simply wasn't equipped to provide. On the other hand they still both had the Federal reinforcements incoming and at their current heading they would likely overtake them before they could make it to the outlying field of Side One where the Zeon forces were. If this prediction proved accurate, they'd have to fight through not only the picket forces that were undoubtedly stationed on the border, but likewise through the forces that would eventually catch up to them.

...It wasn't a good thing to consider, he was down to a single drum of ammunition for his Zaku, and while he still possessed both his 280mm, its compliment of rockets and heat hawk it wasn't as if he could stave off a fleet singlehandedly, even he in all his arrogance and ego wasn't vain enough to think himself that infallible, that invincible. Now they'd have to hope that they could rush through whatever defenses the Federation had awaiting them, and pray that the reinforcements didn't box them between the two fleets, if they could overcome this, they would have no issues, no doubt the Zeon fleet was already at battle stations, they just had to make it that far.

"Miss me?" He stated with no joviality as his Zaku resumed course alongside the shuttle. His Zaku coasted atop the shuttle it pushed upward upon the speeding space craft, his mobile suit scrapping alongside its hull as took up a standing position upon it, the immense weight of the machine leaving little wonder why the vessel was slowing somewhat, having to ferry it as a passenger, yet all the same the shuttle likely had more fuel stored within its thruster array then his Zaku did, it was designed however limited in scope for space travel, not battle interdiction and skirmishing. He wouldn't use the shuttle the entire way to the rendezvous but surely it couldn't hurt if he just used it convey his Zaku a short way, he needed to find every method possible of conserving the limited amount of propellant he still had aboard the mobile suit.

"Lieutenant..." He heard Drevis's voice however its lack of mirth and the serious tone he was employing led him to believe that this was not a conversation to make light of what had occurred but all the same he was in no position to discuss the course of their mission or what had been lost to it so far, three of them survived and while that was not the ideal they had set out to achieve, it was all the same the price paid for the completion of their mission and the survival of the overall unit. "I don't want to discuss this, not now, focus on the job we aren't done yet." His tone projected as crisp and cool as he could make it, despite his own fuming nature, despite his own outrage and fury at the situation, they had to finish the mission.

After that, then they could mourn what had been lost.

But not before that.

* * *

 **January 28, 0079**

 **Side One, Outer Field**

 **Colonial Defense Picket**

 **MS-06C Zaku II**

 **2100 Hours**

In the time since he had brushed Drevis's concerns aside, there had been a complete radio silence on their end, they were steaming as rapidly as they could, trying desperately to outpace whatever pursuit force was coming from the inner colonies. For the Federation it was the complete opposite, due to the low density of M particles, traditional communications while not great due to the high concentration of metallic debris and wreckage, was serviceable enough and due to the captured shuttle they were more or less aware of what the Federation was up to.

...The news was not encouraging, not in the least.

They were in a state of mass mobilization, the attack on the base had apparently been more or less successful, but the entire Side was going into lock down, the borders were being secured, the fleet was being tasked with engaging the fleeing Zeon force, though he noted with some grim humor that they were referred to as "unidentified insurgents" rather then Zeon regulars. That was good, it meant there was little to no proof save the Kumosai and presence of Zaku mobile suits that even gave a hint to their nationality and allegiance. While the Federation undoubtedly knew it was them, there would be nothing linking Typhon to the deed, the how and why they had a shuttle loaded with Zaku II's the leading and cutting edge of Zeon military equipment was something they'd have to come up with on their own but they had provided no clear link.

No declaration of allegiance, no formal communications what so ever, indeed the only thing that could possibly be traced back to Zeon was the transmission to the nearby fleet for delivery of their mobile suits, and hopefully it would take them a while to sort through the communication backlog and by the time any link was established this war would be over in Zeon's favor, yet even so even if those transmissions were discovered what then? The Federation gained access to a handful of code phrases and unit designations they had no context for, no the Mobile Attack Force registry listed Typhon undoubtedly but he wished any Feddie seeking to pursue that archive luck.

Shaking his head clear of thoughts that were consuming it was relatively simple, it was getting easier to brush aside broader and more complex thoughts while in combat, why bother considering the possible future when his life may very well end within the next half hour? If Typhon escaped this battle alive then perhaps he would give the matter more thought but until then it was utterly pointless.

He had resumed coasting alongside the shuttle, matching its rather limited speed rather easily as they approached the few outward final miles of the colonial picket, ahead of them lay the undoubtedly furious and determined Federal navy, ordered to stop them and just beyond that...the Zeon fleet here to take them back to Zeon controlled space, all they had to do was punch through this final line and at last this could finally end. One final battle, one last fight to conclude all of this, so far the Federation hadn't even issued an order of surrender they had simply been trying to shoot them down, no doubt in some act of retribution or vengeance for what had been unleashed in Side One during the course of their battle.

All the same though, even if they issued one it was not as if they would comply with it. No he would not rot in some prison, nor would he face the disgrace or indignity of being executed at their hands, that was something he had come to a conclusion about near immediately after the events of Colony 13. He had no scope of reference for what the Federation would do to those who had purged "civilian" colonies in the name of Zeon and its war but he had no real desire to find out either. He would die before he went to kneel before them in a courtroom somewhere on that rock, he would most certainly kill before it came to that. No they would be denied their justice either by his refusal to surrender or him taking his own life if it became evident that capture was imminent.

Yes if it came to that, as it seemed it might during this mission he already had a safeguard against such a fate.

His 8mm service pistol that still hung on his normal suit clad belt.

Suicide wasn't his ideal end to his life, no he preferred a death in combat, as a warrior but if the Federation couldn't give him that, then so be it.

He would not waste away for decades or be paraded through the streets like some repentant jackbooted thug. He was not even a man of thirty yet, he could persist in prison for a _very, very_ **long** time. No he refused, if he was to face any sort of "justice" skewed as that term may be in the case where he had been deliberately responsible for the deaths of at the very least ten million people...it would come from Zeon, he would face court marshal if his acts were so out of bounds with the politics that came after this war. It would be an ignoble and inglorious end to his service, and he'd rather not face it even from his own nation but at the very least if anyone was to judge him it would not be some Earthnoid monkey, it would be one of the superior race.

The pure race.

The race of Zeon.

* * *

 **January 28, 0079**

 **Side One, Outer Field**

 **Colonial Defense Picket**

 **MS-06C Zaku II**

 **2100 Hours**

' _Incoming_...' That thought resounded within his skull as his onboard system warned him of the incoming projectile that was rapidly gaining on him, unguided or not the munition had been launched accurately and had tracked him despite the debris, the only real means of avoiding it now was to ensure it overshot.

His Zaku veered to avoid the sleek outline of a passing dumbfire missile as it overshot his suit, scowling beneath the veneer of his helmet his finger keyed the firing stud once and let loose a single burst of armor piercing rounds that struck the encroaching Saberfish dead center in the fuselage as it moved to overtake the fleeing Zeon forces. The rounds bit deep and as the craft wobbled and drifted off course it detonated but a handful of seconds later, sparks and smoke leaking from its breached hull as its payload and fuel made an end to its existence a bright spectacle. 'Another dead _Feddie_...' How many had he killed today? He honestly didn't know any longer...he had tried as the war progressed to keep a running tally but after Loum, all of that seemed rather pointless...childish even. Ultimately Side Three no matter how large they grew their population, no matter how drastically they expanded their military it would always be dwarfed by the Federation's so to him keeping track of individual victories was almost entirely pointless, he had sought to become an **Ace** at the start of this war and he had rapidly become one yet no matter how many dead he heaped upon the Federation there would always be more. His monitor blared as it registered incoming contacts breaking his train of thought as he regarded the ammunition counter within his 120mm...They were closing in, his Zaku's propellant for the primary thruster system was nearly exhausted, his ammunition restricted to just what it had left in the current magazine and armament and of course the Federation pursuit had only become more frantic as they neared the outlying borders of Side One.

Still if his scanners were accurate then this portion of the picket only had a handful of missile frigates to cordon them in and while those would be difficult to deal given his current loadout, it would hardly be some implacable foe. No they were going to make it, as the shuttle took the lead of his mobile suit, the brief flash of igniting propellant and glean of sleek angular metal and his radar picked up the incoming missiles, they like their counterparts from the Saberfish were likely unguided, dangerous but not overly so due to density of wreckage and debris that clouded around the outer fields of Side One, the battles that had been waged here provided them adequate shielding in the form of debris, and while to his eye it was almost sacrilegious to use the graves of Zeon soldiers as cover...he had little close in the matter, it was take advantage of the situation or die.

Slanting downward as his suit skirted across busted hull plate, through flash frozen corpses and unexploded munitions, he pushed through the wreckage of what he could only presume had once been a proud Musai cruiser of Zeon. He had began this war on such a vessel and while he had not given over much thought to the Zeal and its crew, their sacrifice for the freedom of their people spoke well of both them and their ship. He did not consider himself to be a overly emotional man but as he rushed aside through these fallen warriors he paid a silent heed for their spirits not to judge him harshly for what he did to their earthly remains. He knew they would understand, they like he were fellow warriors, and advantage was advantage no matter the cost, they would likely have thought his tactic inventive, even as his exhaust and burning thrusters scorched their corpses to ash, even as they impacted roughly against the armored chasis of his suit, he knew they would understand.

Breaking from the cover he had used to move in upon the firing ships he put aside his machine gun just as the frigates had realized his usage of the debris to close the distance between their positions dramatically, where once they were nearly fifty standard miles apart, now they were less then twelve, shouldering his 280mm Bazooka he held in a breath as the tracking reticle settled into place on the forward most frigate loosing the missile just heartbeats after the lock, his machine was already turning about to firing on the next, he would kill them all before their limited AA even began tracking him in the darkness of the void.

As his first missile sailed towards its target, the second one fired at the new enemy had scarcely left the barrel of his Bazooka when he noted the backdrop of their battlefield, there beyond the mounds of debris and wreckage, nearly thousand standard miles away, scarcely within visual range, and long range scanner, they were there. The Zeon fleet, hope flared within his heart for a brief second until he realized one thing.

 **They were not moving.**

They were there, within scanner range, within visual range yet they did not move to intercept, did not move to provide aid, if anything as the battle neared their positions they were preparing to turn about. To withdraw! He let out a animalistic growl, where they to be cast aside? What was going on here? Why were they even there? To offer some unreachable destination? Some hope just out of grasp? No doubt the Federation was going to become aware of the Zeon flotilla if they weren't already and while tensions were running high, no doubt even they wouldn't be foolhardy enough to engage with it peace talks officially going to occur in just a few days. No, no matter their outrage, no matter what venom they may have held towards Zeon, they'd act the part of the soldiers they were and defer to the whims of their politicians just as the soldiers of Zeon did.

* * *

As the final missile frigate erupted into a cascade of fire and shrapnel he sent a single pointed comm to the surviving members of Typhon aboard the shuttle.

"Withdraw, nothing can be done about it, have that rust bucket go as quickly as it can make it to the fleet." His voice was firm despite the indecision he felt, no doubt if the battle spiraled much closer to the Zeon they would begin earnestly pulling out, he didn't understand the method of thought that had led to this but all the same...Drevis and Poulin had to get to the Argus, if they could relieve him with their own mobile suits then his own desperate rearguard action might actually prove survivable but even so...as he eyed the incoming Federal forces skeptically, he was unsure of that, he counted at the very least six battleships moving into firing lanes as they cleared the debris, no way in hell he would be able to take those down with the scarce amount of ammunition he had left for the 280...yet that was not all that was incoming, yet more Saberfish were clearing the wreckage, the naval force that had been pursuing them earnestly damn near since they had escaped Shangri-La had finally caught up.

They couldn't outrun them, his Zaku was running on fumes and the shuttle wasn't built for this length of travel to begin with...

The only way any of them were walking out of this alive was if he once again played the part of a distraction, a decoy. He would have to work towards stalling and damaging as much of this force as he possibly could, if Drevis and Poulin could back him up with their own suits they might even be capable of forcing a Federation retreat. Now that would be an almost acceptable end of the day, with that sort of victory, he could put aside that to get it, they had to lose two of their own.

"Dieter, no way in hell you can hold off that fleet!" Perhaps Drevis was right after all, even crossing the distance to the Zeon forces would eat up several minutes, then they had to prep the suits, and this was all assuming they were even allowed to depart, and if they just didn't leave him for dead. He would have to hold this entire force by himself for perhaps twenty minutes or more...

A smile curled upon his lip as his hand gripped the accelerator and shoved the stick forward at full throttle, His machine already having turned about to face the incoming foes pushed off as fast as he dared push propulsion system, his frame was pushed against the seat as the pressures and rigors of flying one of these behemoths of steel and alloy at high speeds began pushing into him, the shuttle on which his two remaining teammates dwelt, was slowly almost as if in mourning for its soon to be lost comrade was turning about.

They will live. That thought comforted him, he had lost much since this war had began, and while he had known many squad mates during the course of this month, Typhon bunch of cretins that it was, were his cretins. And he would not allow anymore to perish today.

"We will be back for-" Whatever Drevis's communication would have ended up declaring was cut off...violently. The sound of comms cutting out, of explosions and decompression forced his machine to turn about. Allowing his Zaku to witness the sight.

The shuttle blooming outward in a sphere of heated metal, warped hull and shattered alloy was what forced him to break from what had been his suicidal charge, his verniers strained as his turned his suit about, killing its thrusters with a belated pull of the throttle before just gazing outward at the depiction the camera was content to have him witness. Where there was once a shuttle, a shuttle that was moving towards survival, a shuttle that had contained two of his comrades, two of his fellow members of Typhon...two friends.

There was nothing left but glowing embers and rapidly cooling metal left within the vacuum.

And the culprit responsible.

His eyes narrowed at the sight, the Saberfish had been one of several had accompanied the charging fleet but this one was...not of the standard make, it looked less regulation and more innovation and personal taste, he could see the scars of battle on the bird, as it just floated in place, no doubt it had employed the very tactic that he had to get around the frigates and engage from the flank, blowing the shuttle before either of the two occupants even registered it was there. Biting down deeply into his lip, he felt the flash of pain and instant rush of warm liquid metal flowing into his mouth.

He steadied himself, this would be his final act, he had hoped to survive this mission, to escape and become great, to have his destiny realized but now he would put all that aside for the sake of honoring the fallen. His final act in this life would to be to crush the life out of the pilot of that fighter, they had denied Typhon their legacy and for that they would pay. Yet their actions after that had surprised him somewhat, indeed that pilot had a clear shot at his suit's rear and could have unloaded everything it had to quite rapidly demolish his suit from perhaps its own weak spot, yet and that had no occurred, instead it just sat there hovering in plain sight, as if as a taunt.

No, not a taunt.

It was a challenge, just like the one he had received at Loum. Though far more blatant, though given how severely fucked he was in this situation, he pushed aside those misgivings at the pilot's ego, it ultimately didn't matter if he died in the aftermath of any supposed challenge, he just wanted that pilot dead.

Keying the commline with a far rougher then needed flick of the wrist his voice came out far rougher then he realized it would. Replacing the nearly spent Bazooka and replacing it machine gun from its rear rack his challenge was issued. "You want a duel?"

* * *

 **January 28, 0079**

 **Side One, Outer Field**

 **Colonial Defense Picket**

 **MS-06C Zaku II**

 **2100 Hours**

"Joseph Tetium, of Imago Trading..." The voice that came back from his receiver was not what he had expected and yet all the same it made sense. She was a pilot after all, she had confirmed as much upon their first meeting and she was stationed aboard Side One, she had fought at Loum and had come to the colony along with much of the other Federation forces that had sailed into a friendly port for refitting and repairs after the Zeon victory. "You remember me." He spat in response as he shifted in his seat, that false name, the forgery of identity, no he would not be remembered as such either by the Federation or by Zeon.

No he would correct this mistake, abet not just yet, he was a gentlemen after all...he would give the female her victory.

She had come across as a professional soldier, yet that was not what kept her in memory when the dozens of Federal soldiers he had encountered since coming to this black hole of a Side in Federal space were forgotten, no it was her absolute loathing, her hatred of Zeon that kept her in frame.

Recalling her name from memory was easy.

"Lieutenant Meryl O'Sullivan." He recited back with just a hint of amusement curling from his tongue as he spoke the words. Oh this would be fun, he could almost put aside the very fury he had felt mere minutes before just so he could soak in what had occurred. He had wanted this woman dead upon their first meeting due to her escaping Loum alive, and being a reminder of his failure to kill the enemy, and because of that failure now he was alone.

The sole surviving member of Typhon.

"As for my own name...it is not what you remember. But no doubt, as you can likely...surmise that's just a false name, one given for this job." He left out any potential ties to the Zeon military, he wouldn't refer to Black Light by name, nor would he in fact call it a mission. "Because I am a generous soul...I will give you the true name of the man who is going to kill you Lieutenant O'Sullivan." He gave a small if actually mirthful chuckle at his own wording.

"I am Dieter Kries." He let his name drop minus the titling, but did not expect her to actually let out a laugh her own in reply.

She quickly settled herself but that flash of passion none the less confused him, why was his given name amusing to her? It was not exceedingly rare to a surname that descended from one of the old Earth families that had been shot into space generations ago, unless if she found his pronunciation funny.

"Thank Christ, When I saw that suit again and heard your voice, I couldn't help but feel humiliated, a Side Six _Merchant_ defeated me at Loum?" She gave another brief fit of course laughter before an undeniable coolness came to her tone. "You have no idea how relived I am to hear that is not the case...Zeke." He scowled at the racial snub but otherwise kept his composure as he continued to prepare his suit for battle, he had a little less then a half hour left on his reactor before it needed maintenance and restock of coolant and fuel, his munitions were pitiful, especially given that she no doubt was fully loaded for a combat sortie, and while her fighter posed no significant risk with its standard armament, it could inflict significant damage if he was careless here.

"We fought at Loum?" He hazarded a question as he checked veriner and thruster fuel levels, it wasn't encouraging but nothing today for the last prior four hours had been.

"You don't remember? You shot me down fairly easily, I suppose our first meeting wasn't very noteworthy." He could practically her face morphing into a grin, but he had many memories of Loum, he had fought many Federation soldiers there. He had sunk many ships, destroyed several Saberfish though her continued survival lent some credence to the notion he had merely "shot her down" and that was when he recalled that fighter, the one that had barreled into their formation and had raked his Zaku's rear with fire, one that he had in his arrogance actually allowed to flee the field after he scored a decisive blow.

That was her?

...Interesting.

"Well that's enough gabbing, as my old father says: You gotta do your work while the sun is still in the sky." She recited the parental proverb with practiced ease, no doubt if she spoke its origin truthfully, she had heard it much as a child.

"Agreed, and once I am done with you I am going to turn about and kill as many of your fellows as I am able." He promised, after all retreat now would be pointless. The Federation while apparently content with this farce of a duel still undoubtedly had their guns trained on him, he wouldn't be able to travel much further beyond the debris belt before his machine was ripped apart by AA and cannons.

He would die here, his life would end here, but he would not allow this woman to escape her death a second time, and many more of the Federation would join her.

He'd ensure it personally.

" **Bring it Zeke.** " Was her only reply.

"Gladly." He grunted out as his machine accelerated forward, a full frontal charge favored him over her, as his machine bore far superior armoring, better weaponry and of course, better field of view. As Zaku charged forward, shouldering the 120mm he let loose with a fierce if admittedly short barrage, he'd rip that fighter apart before it could even reignite its engine clusters. Yet even as the rounds traveled through the void to strike his target, the fighter spun about, its after veriners burning brightly in the darkness as it avoided the incoming fire with ease. Scowling as the fighter shot away, banking hard on his left his machine tracked the craft's movement's easily enough, after all the standard Saberfish was scarcely much faster then a Zaku II itself.

As he moved into pursue however, the fighter shifted violently and was again on a crash course towards him, vulcans raining hot metal death upon the front armor, and yet he couldn't help but tsk the woman for her poor choice in tactic, if he recalled correctly she had employed this sort of tactic during their first duel. Did she forget how that availed there? It didn't, as his own weapon raised and he eyed the ammunition counter for a brief second before let down on the firing stud once again, this would be easy enough if she was content to just do a stupid charge at him and expect to shrug off the obvious difference between their firepower that was on her. He had actually expected better, a cylinder on her fighter craft however caught his eye as she dove downward to avoid the tracer fire from his 120mm he noted the two pylons that were attached to hardpoints in place of standard missile, although her craft both those as well.

What were those? Additional fuel tanks for extended range? That made sense given he had heard that the Saberfish's fuel efficiency was dreadfully lacking and scarcely had a better range then any of their Zeon counterparts. As this pattern of trading fire repeated, however upon her third charge he noted something different, she was no longer firing, had she run out of vulcan ammunition and was instead lining up a shot with her missiles? That would be excellent for him, it would give him more time to line up accurate trajectories and return fire with almost guarantees of striking that nimble Saberfish.

She was good, that much was a given, he remembered the challenge she had given him last time but he had knew his own skill as well.

* * *

He noted her lagging speed on this charge, it was off-putting...she normally darted in and out and yet on this run she was scarcely going faster then a standard pilot, he had thought her wiser then she was it seemed. Had she burned through all the spare fuel she had brought already flying around to avoid his fire? If that was the case too bad, as the reticle upon her fighter flash red once he grinned as he pressed down upon the trigger just as one of the "pylons" launched itself free of the fighter craft. She was jettisoning the empty fuel containers? It was just extra weight but that wouldn't save her-the pylon broke apart as dozen's of missiles escaped from the multi launcher, his eyes widened as his rounds struck into the fuselage or the craft but as she veered into another tight bank, he could tell that they had been glancing strikes at best.

That left him to deal with rocket pod's payload alone, his machine identified roughly 76 launches, while these missiles were far quicker then the standard dumbfire, he could tell they were unguided as well as hie machine juked and wove through the explosives, only for one to strike his machine upon the shoulder, the armored and decorative black pouldron broke apart under the strike, and that was when he realized just what this was. ' _Anti Armor_?' Absurd, there was no way the Federation had a cache of missiles lying around in Side One that could punch through the frontal armor of a Zaku, no way...A second detonation that left his machine missing portions of its left arm forced him to abandon any semblance of trying to pursue to fighter, he had to get out of the line of sight she had set for the rocket pod before launching it outward.

Never in his many battles against the Federation had he encountered a weapon quite like that...yet he was aware of them, multi rocket clusters were something of an oddity in military design but they were a common enough weapon choice for the Feddies on Earth to mount on either fighter craft or helicopters and...that was how she had acquired them, no doubt as the situation in space grew increasingly desperate they were shipping up as much spare and convertible munitions as possible. That was something he had never considered possible, little lone likely.

He had been a fool, he hadn't even thought that the Federation would think to bring up any of their armor piercing explosives from Earth and refit them for space combat. Yet all the same he pushed his now fairly damaged Zaku out of the stream of missiles just as his scopes gave a blare of warning as a stream of bullets struck into the rear of his suit, the line of tracers trailing down the Zaku's massive back, striking against its munitions storage and rocket launcher along with the thrusters, his rocket launcher exploded outward as its final round loaded within its magazine was struck by a stray that pierced the thin armoring of the launcher itself. His machine was propelled forward by the blast just as he noted O'Sullivan's Federation blue Saberfish overshoot his Zaku, letting out a roar of fury and frustration he brought his Zaku into line and charged at full force, his machine gun letting out sporadic bursts of fire that forced her to keep ascending, and as she climbed, her flight path became more and more predictable, the reticle hovering over he fighter flashed brightly once and he let loose a single round to judge accuracy and distance, and while it overshoot he knew that he could keep pace with her Saberfish and undoubtedly she knew it as well.

She'd pushed him, that missile trick he would admit he had not seen coming, hell she'd exploded his own weapon and used it against him.

He had acknowledged her as good before, but now here was his confirmation that for all her skill and experience, for all her expertise...he was better.

Zeon remained superior.

He began to internally countdown the time to his victory.

 _10...He was beginning to overtake her..._

 _9...She was trying to weave or roll her craft out of his pursuit but he kept pace, he knew all her tricks..._

 _8...She couldn't slow down or his Zaku would just plow through her fighter like a paper sack, he knew that his Zaku would survive the collision and she surely knew that she would not..._

 _7...His main thruster's propellant supply was nearly depleted, he wouldn't be able to keep his Zaku combat worthy for much longer after this duel but he supposed just killing her would suffice for avenging his team..._

 _6...His targeting reticle and cursor hovered over her fighter craft seemingly permanent but ever so slowly did they begin to descend..._

 _5...He only had but a few rounds left within the machine gun but all the same..._

 _4...Nearly there..._

 _3...Just a few more seconds..._

 _2...Had she accepted her death and defeat yet? Would she face them with honor?_

 _1...Now!_

Just as his finger made contact with the trigger his entire machine lurched forward sending his final burst off course, his machine gun ran empty and to his dismay, to his outrage, to his mind numbing fury, she was still accelerating even as his machine slowed...what had gone wrong? What happened? What could have caused this? His status board told the entire story, during the pursuit his machine had strained itself, had pushed itself over the thresholds established, and just as Poulin warned his thruster system had turned into mostly molten slag, letting out a bellow of fury as his suit lost momentum and he struggled to overtake the pressures exerted upon it by veriners alone as he steadied his machine out and began to win against the forces exerted on it, he saw it. On the primary camera mount, his machine recorded her own barrage, just as the missiles were loosed he let out a cry of absolute fury.

They struck and just below the head mount as the torso of his Zaku was consumed in fire and wrath he was battered around the cockpit like a child in a hurricane. The internal gyroscopes went into a frenzy, pressurization lost, fuel and pressure gauges burst. Monitors shattered, sparks and smoke flooded the cockpit as system after system failed, his primary camera lost power just as the overtaxed reactor went into an emergency shut off casting the entire interior into darkness save the occasional sparking monitor or busted wiring. The last image he saw upon the sparking dying main console was of the approaching wreckage of the very Musai he had used to break through the final line of the picket and destroy the assault boats.

The warped and torn steel that was to be his final grave, sheltered in a bosom of iron and death surrounded by his fallen countrymen.

The primary cockpit hatch turning a overheated and warped yellowish red from the sheer heat being subjected to the treated armored metal bent inward under pressures exerted upon it, the entire machine groaned and creaked subjected to forces it was never designed to compensate for, his restraints bit into his torso and shoulder as he lurched forward only to be shoved back on the next contortion. The hatch vented as entire portions of the torso burst apart at the seams as seals and rivets burst, flame consumed his sight for a brief second as he was exposed to the wrath of the anti ship missile that had wrecked his suit. Yet as smoke and burnt metal and plastic drifted through the wreck, he survived. As things stilled however he and he was no longer subject to the violent explosive turbulence of the missile strike he let out a wet cough that stained the air in front of him crimson with thick floating globules of his own blood. As his machine drifted no longer under the acceleration influence of the explosives or his own engines he let out a disgusted if pained sigh, he had been so close... a hair's breath away from ending her once and for all.

Allowing his hands to drift free of the broken and snapped joysticks and toggles of the banks and stations that allowed him to operate his suit he gave a wry smile to the prospect of this state of the art multiton war machine being reduced to basically scrap metal, yet its soft and squishy pilot had survived what had undoubtedly killed his C type. Yes...he had lost...there was no denying that, not anymore.

He was defeated...by her...by the Federation.

His suit had lost structural integrity and was leaking atmosphere into the vacuum, it was done, his C type had given all it could despite not being fully repaired it had held together marvelously during what was to be its final battle...he could ask nothing further from it, nor himself...

He had not left untouched during the cascade of system failures and explosions, how could he have been? His suit breached during the final missile strike. His normal suit , specifically his helmet had given into the pressure, the hardened and tempered glass had shatter inward, even now he could scarcely see through all the blood trailing down his face. He felt his nose shatter under the repeat impact of it, slicing away flash, muscle and cartilage. As the suit bent inward under the strain and pressure of the explosions, his torso had been peppered with shrapnel and debris from the console and monitors, he could scarcely breath through all the pain the act caused him, every breath felt like daggers were being shoved deeper and deeper into his chest...overall...he had been correct.

 **He was to die here** , but he couldn't even avenge his comrades, he couldn't avenge his team.

 **They were all dead** , all of them...

Defeated by a **Feddie**...a **Woman** to boot

He couldn't help but laugh at the sheer absurdity of it all, despite the agony and convulsions it wreaked upon his torso which caused yet another throb of agony to rip through his chest and throat resulting in another heave of liquid crimson. With his suit breached and him being exposed to the vacuum as he was, he wouldn't be around much longer, even without these injuries space...space was deadly to those who did not respect the endless vacuum.

Letting out a gasp of pain as the movement sent slivers of spiking agony across his body as he reseated himself amid the torn metal, glass and plastic of the cockpit, he tried to push the thoughts of mortality away but they didn't depart at his command, not like they did before with death staring him here in the face...he didn't want to die, not here, not like this...

He had no idea of his general location, he had no idea how far his Zaku had been blown off course as it was propelled by explosions and his own misfiring veriners, he could even be closer now to Side One if anything, hopefully however he had been lost in the aftermath of the battle...otherwise his machine could theoretically be captured by the Federation, such a thought, his remains, his suit all in the hands of the Feddies...it was too much to bear. A flash of green illuminated the torn interior of the cockpit, even from this distance, even with only the scarce few peepholes the Feddie had been kind enough to give him with her missile shower...he knew what that was.

 _Zeon signal flares_...they were advancing...

 **About damn time**...if there was any justice in this universe, all of these Feddies would die, all of them. Nuke the entire fucking Side, wipe it from existence like Side Four and Five. **'Good, Kill them all'**...as his blurry vision swarm within his head and it grew increasingly draw breath, as his heart went within a frenzy within his chest with its frantic beats he couldn't even recall what his would be killer looked like.

That he thought was a shame, he couldn't even recall what the person who brought him to this low point looked like, though perhaps that was just due to the lack of lucidity.

He didn't quite know himself.

As he let out a hollow breath he glanced downward at his waist, all he could make out through the blood was that his sealed suit had somewhat held together better down there, yet his did not find what he had been hoping to aquire...his pistol had been lost during the chaos of his defeat and now he didn't even have the means to actually give himself an easy end, no he would die here slowly either from partial decompression that would just eat away at his internals until hypoxia just ended him outright or from something as stupid as blood loss and trauma. Though he did admit...

His survival to this point did however lend credence to the proposed standards by which Zaku were constructed, his survival after repeat missile impacts, his own Bazooka exploding on its rack and even its frontal chassis being raked what in all likelihood was anti ship missiles in the vein of their Sturmfaust.

All the same though, it would be painful and while pain had defined most of his adult life, that did not mean he was somehow attached to the prospect of receiving it, he was just indifferent to it. These thoughts he knew were just his mind desperately trying to cling to life, to avoid the bitter realization that either he'd die here in this cockpit surrounded by his shredded mobile suit or he'd be likely picked up for capture by the Federation, and left to the fate he'd been so confident he'd avoid just earlier.

* * *

Unclasping the restraints from his torn and broken chest he let out a tired sigh, blood loss and lack of oxygen within the blood he did retain was playing hell on him. If he had been lucky the decompression would have instantly provided such a shock he'd have simply blacked out and died but no, he'd get to enjoy his body going through the motions of retaining life only to die in his own blood drenched cockpit. Vision blackening as his eyes struggled to stay open, as his heart rattled within his chest, his lungs drawing in air and expelling it frantically. His body working so desperately to keep their host alive, struggling so valiantly against the inevitable death to come. Of course it was though, his body was just like him, stubborn to a fault and unwilling to concede so they fought and fought and fought until there was nothing to fight with.

His helmeted head impacted the torn and ruined interior of the headrest of his pilot seat and even with its protection, he felt the fragments of torn and loose metal gliding against the back of his skull, but that wasn't an overwhelming concern at the moment. He felt not at peace, not content, there was no beam of light beckoning him to the afterlife, there was nothing but the blood, pain and darkness he found himself within.

He supposed...it was as fitting a place as any for a soldier like him to fall. He was the sort who would have found comfort in any of that, no he wanted to die as he lived in combat, like a soldier, and this was...close enough he supposed.

He could die with the few regrets he possessed.

 _'Sorry Emre...won't be able to keep that promise I made you.'_

As his eyes slipped shut haphazardly his suit began to jerk forward as the torn and bludgeoned black chassis of the mobile suit was pulled free from its own drifting cloud of debris and parts. He did not stir despite the shifting motion and movement, even as he along with the most intact portion of the mobile suit he had bore into battle after battle was dragged back to the Zeon lines.

 **EPILOGUE END**

* * *

 **AN: Well I have to say as this chapter of my little career here for writing comes to a close, I am somewhat sad to see it go but all the more glad to have finished it. This journey that began back in January was something I threw together more out of boredom, and interest in providing a story that had to my knowledge never been told before. I think I accomplished that, and while this story is certainly rough around the edges(I only had a beta reader for the first chapter unfortunately) I think it comes together as a solid read. Not perfect by any means but acceptable to my standards.**

 **I do hope that everyone who has followed this since it was first unveiled has enjoyed themselves and I do hope they will stick around as I continue to publish oneshots in the UC Gundam universe and eventually when I get around to publishing the sequel to Soldier of Zeon. I personally wish to thank everyone who has followed, favorited and reviewed. Because regardless of if I would have published this entire story or not with or without viewing, it was nice to get at least some appreciation for it.**

 **Did you know that the ending you read here was one of three ideas initially I had planned for how Black Light itself would go down and its aftermath? I initially was going to have the entire Typhon team wiped out in sort of an** **homage Cyclops from 0080 but then as I went on I decided to have Dieter himself survive and be a critical part of the sequel story in the future and its installments along with other surviving characters. I may eventually actually go back and write out those scenarios as a sort of "what if" scenario and may even base a short chapter fic after that very premise if the inspiration and mood ever takes.**

 **But now to speak of things to the future, first off I wish to inform all my readers that I will shortly be publishing a series of oneshots that follow in the wake of Soldier of Zeon much like my prior oneshot: Impact. These upcoming stories, consider them interludes to the sequel, they will cover more of Dieter, Yuuka and Zeon as my characters move towards the end of the One Year War and beyond it. A Baoa Qu, Zeon remnants, The First Neo Zeon War and more. All of this is coming your way fairly shortly as we move towards the sequel.**

 **Now I will not say much about the sequel at present but I will give away my planned titling of it: Sword of Zeon. Just as Soldier of Zeon was set to give a look into the early days of the One Year War through the eyes of a common soldier, Sword of Zeon will take you through the mentality and lifestyle of a Zeon soldier post One Year War, post Neo Zeon War. Its going to have romance, violence, explosions, betrayal and drama galore. And hopefully as I portray the UC universe with my limited ability, all of you will join me and enjoy it.**

 **With nothing else left to say except a final thank you for reading...**

 **Till next time!**

 **-Reborn Akatsuki**


End file.
